


Freedom's Dream

by HeroMaggie



Series: Dreams [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders in corsets, Anders in warden gear, Chantry Templars and Other things Eavan hates, Corset smut, DA2 ending, Eavan is not having any of this darkspawn shit, Fade Finger Fondling, Fenris is not enjoying Zevran, Justice talks to Eavan, Kick-Ass Anders, Kirkwall is not ready for the Awakening crew, M/M, Missing Wardens, Romance, Smut, Taking the canon and setting it on fire, Violence, Zevran is enjoying everything too much, anal beads and dildos, creative cursing, fluff and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Warden expedition is missing in the Deep Roads - in an area last explored by the Tethras Expedition. </p>
<p>Delilah Howe comes to Kirkwall to find help for her brother - lost in the Deep Roads with the Hero of Ferelden.</p>
<p>Anders finds himself pulled back into the world of the Wardens, back to the side of a woman who had thought him dead for the last seven years. </p>
<p>Kirkwall teeters on the edge of violence once again, and into this maelstrom comes Eavan Tabris and her Wardens. Will they be the catalyst of change the city needs? Or will her very presence cause the violence to explode into something greater than any one person could ever imagine?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are - barreling towards the end of Act 3...but will it go as it did in the game?
> 
> Or will having a group of Wardens around change the story?
> 
> How will Fenris handle this new "threat" to his and Anders relationship? And is it even a threat - or the promise of a life both men have been wanting to have?

Late Fall in Kirkwall included grey skies, chances of freezing rain, and an increase in templar activity – because the Knight Commander truly believed that more apostates tried to escape right before Winter hit than any other time of the year. Something about templars being slow in the cold weather due to the joints of their armor freezing or some such nonsense.

Which was why Anders was scowling while following Hawke and Isabela through Hightown. It wasn’t, exactly, because there were templars on just about every corner but because there were templars on just about every corner and it was starting to spit ice. He stepped down, skidded forward, and almost landed on his arse – saved by the quick reflexes of his lover.

“Careful,” the word was growled, even as the grip gentled. “I do not wish you to be injured.”

“Andraste’s nipple rings, why are we out here?” Anders ignored the fluttery feelings of happy in his belly in favor of grousing. “Hawke, why do I keep following you around?”

“Because I get these brilliant ideas and you know I need somebody standing behind me that will help put out the fires,” Hawke glanced back at him, her eyes twinkling. “I mean, do you see Isabela dousing flames? No. She’d probably set more.”

“Fenris would help douse flames,” Anders muttered.

“Fenris just adds to the chaos by decorating with internal organs,” Hawke tossed over her shoulder. Anders was about to respond when Hawke muttered, “Hello, what’s this then?”

What she was staring at was a frantic young woman surrounded by three templars – all of them in various stages of flinching and shrugging. As the group watched, one of the templars held up his hand in a placating gesture, shrugged again, and then led his friends off – leaving the woman standing alone and dejected in the middle of the Hightown square.

Hawke waited for the templars to leave and then bustled up, her “I’m here to help” expression in place. “You look like you could use some help,” she chirped brightly.

“Oh…Oh Maker. Yes. Yes I could. I’m sorry to bother you. It seems that everybody I talk to is bothered. I’ve tried the Guard and now the templars. I’m not sure where else to turn,” The woman was wringing her hands, large grey eyes jumping between each person in their small group.

Hawke was many things – apostate, avid trinket hunter, teller of bad jokes and worse puns…and hoarder of every pair of torn trousers found in the Free Marches – but she was, at heart, a helper. And a lone woman wringing her hands and practically sobbing was to Hawke what catnip was to a cat. Anders watched in mild amusement as Hawke started to soothe the woman.

The woman who, now that he thought about it, looked rather familiar: soft grey eyes, glossy brunette hair…a rather regal nose…wait a minute…

“Delilah? Delilah Howe? Well put me in a dress and call me a templar! It IS you!” Anders couldn’t seem to reign in his mouth. “Hawke! This is Nate’s sister…Nate…Nate my warden friend…”

“Nate who talked you into…” Fenris started, stopping when he realized they weren’t alone. “ah…into some interesting life choices?”

“Life choices? What life choices? Explain!” Isabela turned sharp eyes on Fenris who simply backed away slowly. “Elf…”

“Anders?” The woman who was, indeed, Delilah Howe blinked in surprise. “Oh Maker am I glad to see you. Wait. I thought you were dead!”

“Ah…haha. Yes. Well. Misunderstandings happen…um. So! How’s Nathaniel? Is he here?” Anders was glancing around as if Nate would suddenly materialize from the shadows – which he had been known to do.

Delilah took one look at Anders and burst into tears, the entire group freezing in fear as the tears escalated into full-on sobbing. “He’s gone. Missing! In the Deep Roads!”

***

Delilah hiccupped into her ale and wiped at her face. After the sobbing, Hawke figured the only sane thing to do was to gather up the poor, distraught woman and go to Varric’s rooms. Nothing helped settle nerves and draw out a story like some bad ale and Varric’s charming personality. So the group had scooped up Delilah before she even knew what was happening and moved the entire discussion to the Hanged Man.

Hawke’s group of friends seemed to have some sixth sense when it came to Hawke and her taking of charity work because not only was Varric home, but Merrill was also at the tavern. So was Sebastian, much to Hawke’s amazement. When asked why the former Chantry Brother was even there, the man turned soulful eyes on the group and said “I saw Hawke practically carrying a sobbing woman and knew something was amiss.”

They were all ranged around the table in Varric’s room. Hawke opened her mouth to start playing twenty-questions when the sound of armor filled the air and Aveline stumped in. After glancing around to see if anybody else, like her erstwhile warden brother, wanted to join them – Hawke reached out to touch Delilah’s hand while asking softly, “Want to tell me all about it?”

“You’re Hawke, right? Champion of Kirkwall?” Delilah’s gaze was fixed on Hawke’s face, grey eyes going hard at the nod of assent. “Then it’s your fault that he’s missing.”

“What did I do?” Hawke reeled back as if struck. “I’ve never even met your brother!”

“You found that abandoned Thaig! And word got around and then people started to trying to find it! And now the wardens are down there looking for it…including my brother! He’s been gone for nearly a month…I…” the words cut off into a wail of grief.

Hawke and Varric shared a look. One that clearly conveyed “oh shit” along with “fuck me” wrapped around “but of course it’s the fucking Thaig” and ending on a shared “fucking Bartrand.”

Anders caught the tail end of the wordless conversation and huffed softly, “Delilah, Nate’s a warden. That’s what we do. We go down into the dark and…” his brain tried to come up with something better than “whack at darkspawn” but couldn’t seem to phrase it better. “Whack at darkspawn…” he sighed.

“Then why aren’t you with him? Why did he think you dead?” Her words lashed at him and Anders paled. “He’s down there and you aren’t. How is that any kind of justice?”

The entire group quieted and Anders closed his eyes, Justice unfurling in his mind to stab directly into his guilt. A moment of internal lecturing and Anders opened his eyes to look at Delilah, “It isn’t. And you’re right. I’ll…I’ll go look for him. I know where the Thaig is.”

“You aren’t going anywhere alone,” Hawke sputtered.

“Mage, you must be sliding into insanity if you think I will allow you to step foot into the Deep Roads without me,” Fenris growled.

“Well shit, this is my fault too. I guess I’m in,” Varric muttered.

“Oh! Let me help too! I know I can help!” Merrill gazed at Hawke with wide, pleading eyes.

Isabela just entwined her fingers with Hawke’s, a sad smile on her face. Hawke squeezed those fingers and nodded, no words needed.

“The Maker’s will, I’ll go as well,” Sebastian said, bowing his head.

“Hawke, you know I can’t leave the city…but I will put out extra guards along the coast to look for any missing wardens.” Aveline said apologetically.

Delilah looked at each person and sniffed, “You…you’ll help?”

“Of course we will! That’s what we do…when we aren’t setting things on fire or killing dragons or…” Hawke tried to think of other tasks they’d handled.

“Killing the Arishok?”

“Cleaning out the Bone Pit…repeatedly…”

“Tracking down slavers…”

“Remember the ferret discussion?”

The group stopped to look at Merrill who offered a big grin. “It was better than saying killing spiders.”

Varric chuckled, “Daisy, you are correct on that. Serah Delilah, you’re sitting in Varric Tethras’ suit at the Hanged Man and having an ale with the Champion of Kirkwall and her erstwhile companions – if we can’t find your brother and save him, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

Delilah’s face conveyed a wealth of emotion – the most noticeable being concern. She reached for Anders’ hands and squeezed his fingers. “If anybody can help Nate, it will be you.”

“Do you know how many wardens he went down with? Why didn’t you go to the Vigil for help?” Anders patted at the slender fingers gripping his.

“I tried…but the problem wasn’t that the Vigil wouldn’t help. The problem is that he went down there as part of a major expedition. Anders, all of the senior wardens are down there with Nate and they’re all missing…” Delilah’s grip tightened painfully.

Anders’ eyes widened and he clung to Delilah as tightly as she was clinging to him. Her next words knocked the wind from him, “It wasn’t just the senior wardens. Commander Tabris is there too. Anders, they’re all about a week overdue and if the Hero of Ferelden is missing in the Deep Roads, what chance does my brother have?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about the Hero of Ferelden...yes? No?
> 
> Also - hi there Mr. Crow...what are you doing in Kirkwall?

“So…” The word was drawn out, Hawke’s lips shaping around “O” dramatically as she raised an eyebrow at Anders, who simply swallowed and fidgeted. “That last tidbit before Delilah left…where you clung to her and promised her you’d save all the wardens or die trying? What was that all about?”

“Err,” Anders tossed Fenris a desperate look. The elf simply shook his head.

“You need to tell them,” Fenris said the words gently. “About the Hero of Ferelden.”

The groan was heartfelt, quiet and pained. Hands griping his hair, Anders struggled with the memories, with Justice, with the surge of fear at knowing his friends…his family…was in danger. Blue splintered, crackled, and subsumed him as Justice rose to the surface to fret with him. The eyes that finally lifted where swirls of blue and brown, anguish evident in every line on Anders’ face.

“Anders,” Fenris had stood, “Anders look at me.” Those eyes turned up to his elf and Fenris watched as tears spilled down his mage’s face. “You need to tell them. So they know why this is important to you.”

“Anders, we’re going to go help them. I’d just like to know that you’re up for this.” Hawke soothed.

Closing his eyes and fighting down Justice, Anders struggled to come back under control. Finally, finally he was able to wrestle enough of himself back to speak. “I’m sorry. Justice is so upset. He knew the Warden Commander.”

“Your demon knew the Warden Commander?” Disbelief colored every word spoken by Aveline. “She consorted with demons?”

“Justice is no demon,” Anders gave Aveline a tired glare. “And yes, she knew him. We all did. He was…is…a brother in arms. A fellow warden. But that’s a story for another time. The Warden Commander, Eavan Tabris, is the one who saved me from the Circle. She conscripted me during my last escape attempt and kept me from being made tranquil. I owe her my life and…”

“She is missing in the Deep Roads,” Hawke finished. “Alright, tell me if you think she’s still alive.”

“Eavan? It would take more than a horde of darkspawn to take her down. She took down the archdemon, a…I don’t know what the Architect was, and at least two broodmothers up close. She’s a hard woman to kill.” Anders rubbed a hand over his face. “But if I know her, she’s down there with wounded wardens and she wouldn’t leave them behind.”

“Well, normally I’d worry that we wouldn’t reach her in time but that exit we found dropped us off a few days north of Sundermount. I say we make for that entrance and see if we can’t find them. We can find them, right?” Hawke tapped her fingers on the table as she pondered the conundrum.

“Wardens…we can sense each other. If we’re close enough, I’ll know they’re there.” Anders finally relaxed as the planning started. “I will lead. You’ll have to…ah…there won’t be a Bartrand to lead this expedition. If you all go to the Deep Roads it’ll be with the understanding that I am in charge.”

“You in charge, Blondie?” Varric gave a grin, waggling his eyebrows. “Never seen you in charge before.”

Fenris’ “Fasta Vass” was overshadowed by Anders’ bark of laughter, “None of you are wardens. I may hate the Deep Roads with a passion but I am the best trained out of all of us to survive them. You’ll listen to me or you won’t be going.” His eyes fell on each person who had said they’d help and each one nodded in agreement.

“When do you think we can leave?” Sebastian asked, “I’ve never been in the Deep Roads. Anything I should bring?”

“Don’t wear your white armor. To shiny, too bright. Wear something protective and covers your bare skin. Bring plenty of arrows and pack plenty of trail rations. Or we’ll be eating mushrooms and lichen.”

“Mushrooms and lichen…” Sebastian made a face.

“You really don’t want to eat either of those things,” Hawke said, “We had to forage on the expedition and it was…horrible.”

“It kept you alive,” The words were wryly spoken, Anders face screwing up into amusement. “Eavan used to say that when we moaned about eating such things. Now I sound like her and it’s…something. It’s something. I’ll need to make healing potions and gather bandages and poultices. If I work hard, I could be ready to leave in three days.”

“Three days? My Dove would be put out at your laziness,” the words caught the attention of the entire group, eyes swinging to blink in shock at the blond elf lounging in the doorway. “Ah, do not be alarmed. I followed the ever delightful Delilah here to Kirkwall. I had imagined she would come looking for aid closer to where the Thaig was…and I was correct.”

“Zevran?” Anders stood. “What are you doing here?”

“Why does she go to Kirkwall, I wondered. Then I remembered, the delightful Champion of Kirkwall found the very Thaig My Dove is lost looking for. Where else would Delilah go? Hmm? And how fortunate that I followed her as have I found you. Though perhaps the tavern would have been my first stop anyway.” The smile, while brilliant, was also predatory. “Certainly, you shall not be going without me.”

“Ah…I mean…” Anders floundered.

“Of course,” Hawke leapt to her feet and rushed to the elf. “Of course you’re going as well. Right Anders.”

“Eavan will have my head for allowing you down there, Zev,” the words were muttered.

“She will have your head for being alive, no?” the words were thrown back at him.

“Fair point. Fine. Two days. Two days and we leave. Who needs to sleep?” Anders threw his hands up and pouted.

Fenris gave a soft growl at the words but otherwise kept quiet. Zevran eyed the other elf with some speculation, “You are going, yes?”

“The mage goes nowhere without me,” Fenris bit off the words.

“Ah good. Good. Anders, I shall bunk with you till we leave. To, ah, make sure you will not disappear. You understand my concern, of course.” Zevran gracefully moved across the room.

“The mage lives with me. And he will not run again. I can promise you that,” Fenris stepped in front of Anders before Zevran could reach him.

“Who is this man?” Aveline was starting to stand and Isabela stood and lunged at the Guard Captain. “Isabela!”

“Now now, Man-hands. I’m just making sure you don’t break my friend. Our friend. Right Anders?” Isabela gave a throaty laugh and wrapped herself around Aveline.

“Oh he’s one of YOUR friends?” the words full of suspicion. “Just what kind of friend?”

“Zevran Arainai, at your service,” Zevran offered Aveline a short bow. “Former Crow.”

“Former Crow!” Sputtered Aveline.

“He’s with the Hero of Ferelden!” Anders threw out as he stepped around Fenris and in front of Zevran

“Oh! Now I can ask you about the birds!” Merrill said with an excited clap.

The entire room froze. Slowly, Isabela slid from Aveline – who sat down with a soft huff. Fenris rolled his eyes and also took a seat, gesturing at Anders to stop guarding Zevran. Zevran blinked in surprise at Merrill who offered him a wide, innocent smile.

Varric snorted in amusement.

“Birds?” Zevran was looking at each person with some consternation. “Why would I know about birds?”

Merrill managed to beam even brighter, but kept silent.

“Merrill, I’m beginning to think you do that on purpose,” Hawke murmured, the little elf giggling. “You do. You do it on purpose. How long have you been…the whole time? The whole freaking time?”

Merrill gave another laugh. “He can stay with me, if you all are worried.”

Varric sat up at that, “Now Daisy…”

“Kitten…I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” Isabela started.

Anders turned his gaze up to Zevran, “She’s Dalish.”

“Mm…Dalish like Dalish or Dalish like Velanna?” The words made the entire group look at Anders who shrugged.

“Half and half?” Anders sorta waved his hand back and forth.

“Walking trees?” Zevran was looking Merrill over thoughtfully.

“Demon mirror.” Those words made Zevran stroke his chin.

“I can live with that,” Zevran turned to Merrill and bowed, “I would be honored to be your guest.”

“Do we want to know?” Aveline asked, confusion on her face.

“Best if you don’t,” Zevran said as Anders nodded.

“If that is settled,” Hawke said with a glance around the room, “We’ll leave in two days. Early in the morning – unfortunately. Meet at my mansion. It’ll be fun, right? Fun!”

The entire group groaned at that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders discuss Zevran...and how he met the Hero of Ferelden...
> 
> Anders' feelings for Eavan Tabris
> 
> And why Fenris may actually approve of her...

“I do not trust that man,” Fenris was growling as they walked home, fingers loosely entwined with Anders’. “I do not like the familiar way in which he touches you. I do not like his sly looks. I do not like him.” His voice was a low mutter, rough despite the gentle touches.

“Zevran? He’s fine. Harmless.” Anders tripped a bit as he hurried after Fenris, the elf walking fast as his anger flared. “Fen…love…can you slow down?”

“Fasta Vass!” Fenris came to a sudden stop, a slight shimmer of fear and shame washing over his face. “I am sorry, Anders. Did I injure you?”

“No. No, I'm alright. It's alright. I just didn’t want to end up falling while climbing these Maker-forsaken stairs. Fenris. Fen…” Anders sighed. “Love, Zevran has his reasons for being that way. Just like you have your reasons for being possessive.”

“Unless he was a slave, I doubt he’d understand,” Fenris spat.

“Actually…Fenris…he was. Not to a magister, no, but the Crows bought him when he was a boy. He had no choice in becoming what he is. His entire life was spent performing for his masters – knowing that if he failed, the only thing awaiting him was death,” Anders slowly reached for Fenris’ hand again, the two men slowly resuming their walk home. “And he probably would be dead but he won the job to take out Eavan and Alistair…”

“She is, obviously, alive. Why is he, then?” Green eyes glanced up through white fringe, curiosity sparking in them. “If he failed, why is he not dead?”

“Well, the way Zev tells it, he was woken up bound in rope with a beautiful elven maiden leaning over him. More likely he was tied to a tree and Eavan kicked him till he gained consciousness. Then threatened him. Then asked him questions. But either way, she offered him a chance to find freedom – if he helped her stop the Blight. He agreed and somewhere between failing at that job to kill her and the archdemon’s death, they became like family. Zevran is devoted to her, as much as she is devoted to him.” Anders squeezed Fenris’ hand and smiled.

“Are they lovers, then? I thought she was with the King.” Fenris was mulling over what Anders had said, wondering if he needed to scrape together an apology. “Or did she leave the King?”

“Well, it’s been years since I’ve seen them…but…when I was a warden, Eavan and King Alistair were going through a rough spot, so to speak. He was new to the Throne, she had been thrust into being an Arlessa. We…ah. I should…” Anders perked up when he saw the door to the mansion. “Oh! We’re home!”

“Anders,” his name was sharply spoken.

“Inside. I’ll tell you inside, yes. Want some tea? Or…I could make some tarts? Or…” Anders’ mind ran down a list of things he could do to give himself time. Scrub something? Polish the floors again? Justice prodded at him and he huffed, the spirit and the mage’s conscious frowning at each other.

“Mage,” Oh sweet Maker, Anders thought, Fenris had resorted to calling him mage. “You will sit and tell me whatever you are hiding.”

Pleading eyes were turned to Fenris who simply huffed and pointed at the downstairs sitting room. Anders slouched to a chair and threw himself into it, fingers tapping at the upholstered arm.

“Tell me,” Fenris slowly took the seat across from Anders tried to look relaxed and non-threatening. “You can tell me anything.”

“So there was this rough spot Eavan was going through with Alistair. Apparently some Arl was pushing for the poor man to marry a noblewoman and sire an heir right away. Plus, with the end of the Blight, the country was in need of a lot of help. So he was busy and Eavan was alone…and…” Anders rubbed at a nubby spot in the fabric. “I was alone.”

“And then you two weren’t…alone?” Fenris remarked dryly.

“The first time was after a trip to the Deep Roads. I couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep. We ended up in her room and…well. Then it happened again. And then again. And then Zevran visited…and I was very wild back then,” Anders added the last bit with an apologetic smile. “I…may have allowed Zevran to seduce me. I may not have put up much of a fight. And, of course, there was Nate...”

“Did she mind?” Fenris gripped the arms of his seat. “Did you love her?”

“Eavan? I…yes. In a way. We didn't have long together but...if any woman could have settled me...if she had stayed? I...don't know what would have happened.” Anders deflated.

“And did she love you?” The words were casually asked.

“Ah. It was a constant source of, um, worry for her. Because she loved the King but…ah. She thought he may put her aside…and she was trying to be strong. And then Weisshaupt sent for her and well, you know what happened with Justice and I,” Anders tried to pull his legs up to his chest.

“So she was called away by her superiors. And while she was away you joined with a Spirit of Justice, killed the templars and wardens who found you out, and fled…leaving a body behind so that she would think you dead? The woman you were falling in love with? You did that to her?” Fenris was gaping a bit at Anders.

“I was very stupid back then,” Anders held up his hands. “An idiot, really. Absolute fool. I’ve grown as a person. Matured, even.”

“If you ever…” Fenris started

“Never…I would never…” Anders threw himself from the chair to grab Fenris’ legs, burrowing his face against his lover’s legs. “Fenris. I was a different man then. A different person. I’m not proud of what I did. And I will have to face my mistakes when I see her…but if she was to make me choose, I’d choose you.”

“Will she? Make you choose?” Fenris slid his hands into Anders’ hair, pulling loose the tie so that he could smooth the strands.

“I would choose you. No questions asked. I am yours, Fenris. Till the day I either die or you no longer want me.”

“I love a foolish, foolish mage,” Fenris murmured. “I will not leave you to them. If she wants you back, she’ll have to take me as well.”

“You won’t fight her over it?” Anders lifted his head to look into Fenris’ eyes.

“You are a Warden, Anders. If you must return…then you must. But I will be going with you. I am free to make that choice. Free to go where I wish. And where I wish to be is by your side.” Fenris’ lips twitched into a little half-smile. “She will have to be content with my presence.”

Anders exhaled and nuzzled closer to his elf, the worry and stress leeching from his muscles. The strong fingers carding through his hair soothed him and with a sigh, he relaxed fully. “She’ll like you. And you’ll like her. She has a real hatred of Tevinter.”

“Oh?” Fenris smiled a bit at the near-purring noises coming from his mage. “And is this a general, all-purpose hatred or is there a specific reason?”

“Mmm…the Arl Rendon Howe was selling the elves from her Alienage to Tevinter slavers. She killed the magister and his lackeys, killed Howe, and then killed the Regent sitting on the throne for good measure...though that was because of Ostagar...” Anders pressed a warm kiss to Fenris’ knee. “From what I understand, the magister was stabbed repeatedly, and Howe and the Regent lost their heads. She has a terrible reputation in the Arl of Denerem’s estate. I mean, she has probably cause…the old Arl’s son tried to rape her but…you know…elves killing nobility…looks bad.” Anders frowned a bit as Justice nagged about the Injustice visited on the elves.

Fenris had quit stroking Anders’ hair, his mouth hanging agape, “She did what?”

“With the Tevinters? Oh, she killed a bunch of slavers, rescued her family and the Alienage, and then cut down half the nobles in league with Arl Howe.” Anders pressed another kiss to his elf’s knee.

“Howe…Howe…aren’t we rescuing a Howe?” Fenris slid a finger under Anders' chin to tilt his face up.

“Ahh…Nathaniel Howe, yes. Son of Arl Howe…but he’s not like his father. I swear! Ok, so he tried to kill Eavan. Once. But she…fixed…what?” Anders swallowed at the narrowed eyed look being shot his way.

“She has allowed two assassins to get close to her?” Fenris looked mildly outraged.

“Oh, they got over it. She used to say that some of her best friends tried to kill her. I mean, wait till you meet her. You’ll see. Nate forgave her once he found out what his father was doing. And Zevran? Zev adores her.” Anders relaxed swallowing slightly as that long finger slid down his throat. “Fenris…”

In response to the near question, Fenris bent down and nipped at Anders’ chin. “I do not like the thought of you in the Deep Roads. Nor do I approve of these wardens coming here. You are mine and I do not wish to share you. However, I do trust you. And if your Hero of Ferelden is as you have described her, then I suppose I can see why you would be…enamored.”

A grin blossomed on Anders’ face, “She was rather enamored of me.”

“Silly mage,” Fenris sat back, watching as his mage settled down at his feet. “You do not have to stay there. You are no slave to curl up at my heels.”

“And if I want to? Sometimes I enjoy leaning against your leg. You play with my hair and it’s relaxing. Justice goes all quiet and peaceful and I can just…exist.”

“Mm...love...You are not to bring Bun. I know you will ask and the answer is a firm no. The cat stays.” Fenris started smoothing down Anders’ hair, smiling slightly as the mage squawked in annoyance. “No Anders. Bun will remain here. We shall ask Fran to watch her.”

Anders sighed morosely but had to agree that it was safer for Bun to be here. A thought made him sit up straight and turn around to gaze at Fenris with wide eyes, “What if Eavan has Pounce?”

Fenris closed his eyes and sighed. He knew all about Pounce. He knew more about Pounce than he did Eavan. The absolute joy on his mage’s face really meant there was only one answer to this semi-asked question. “Obviously, Pounce would have to come stay with us.”

“I love you so much,” Anders exhaled. Fenris just sighed and rolled his eyes.

Mage dramatics, he thought – albeit in a very fond, very loving manner. His mage’s dramatics.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders have a talk about the Wardens...
> 
> Trip Prep is done! One last meeting before Deep Roads delving begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it took a while to post this chapter. I may have started another story...
> 
> And I really only have my Tumblr followers to blame - bunch of enablers...wonderful, glorious enablers!

_**Two days later:** _

The warden blues lay on their bed, the tabard gleaming slightly in the weak light. Beside the blues were arranged bottles of healing potions, lyrium potions, clean bandages, poultices, and other odds and ends for Anders' healing kit. Beside that were packets of dried meat, travel bread, dried fruit, and hard cheese. Anders was slowly folding everything into small packets and stowing it away in pouches and bags, his mind reviewing what would be needed and what was waste.

Fenris stood at the doorway and watched his mage move. He had seen Anders take on demons and blood mages, Qunari and bandits, slavers and dragons – but he had never seen his mage prepare for a trip the Deep Roads. The last trip Fernis had taken to that dark and cursed place had been during the expedition when he and Anders had been...he wouldn't say enemies but definitely not friends.

There was a confidence there in each of the mage’s movements that Fenris had never, really, seen before. It was clear that Anders knew what he was doing, that this delving into the Deep Roads, planning for a trip that would take them all underground to lairs filled with darkspawn, was something he was intimately familiar with.

“I know you're standing in the doorway,” There was a smile in those words, Fenris could hear it.

“Just watching you pack. I have never seen you this prepared before, this organized...” Fenris moved up behind his mage and wrapped his arms loosely around the taller man. “It is mildly unsettling.”

Leaning back into the hug, Anders exhaled, “Fenris. We should talk.”

“Is that not what we are doing?” Those words made fear shiver through Fenris.

Anders' response was to pull from the hug and move the bundles of gear from the bed. Fenris watched as each item was carefully stacked on a chair by the fire, the leathers draping over the back. Anders patted the bed after the last item had been moved and gave Fenris a half-smile. “Sit and I'll explain. I never thought I'd have anybody in my life that would need to know this.”

“You are worrying me, love,” Fenris perched on the bed, body tense.

Exhaling, Anders reached for one of Fenris' hands. “I'm a warden. I know I've told you all that. You know that I can sense the darkspawn. You saw that when we went down with that blasted expedition. What you don't know is why. These are warden secrets...things those outside of the order don't need to know. I was told, once, that passing on this knowledge was highly discouraged unless it was to somebody who I would...commit to.” The words made Anders' smile wryly. “Obviously, I never thought I'd have cause to explain this.”

“We...the wardens...are inducted into the order by drinking a mixture of darkspawn blood, archdemon blood, and some other...magical...ingredients. I'm not sure what all is in the Joining chalice, though I tasted lyrium under the blood. We're tainted, Fenris. I can sense the darkspawn because I carry that taint in my blood. I'm not immune to it. Eventually, my body will be unable to handle the taint and I'll...I'll start to turn into a ghoul.”

Fenris' face had smoothed out, his gaze blank. He nodded mechanically and Anders swallowed and forged ahead. “We can sense darkspawn, we hear them in our dreams. I was told the nightmares are worse during a Blight. They grow even worse as we become older until we can't ignore them anymore. And then we go down into the Deep Roads to kill as many darkspawn as we can until we die. It's called the Calling and every Warden hears it eventually.”

“How long?” The words were rasped. “How long do you have?”

“Average time is thirty years...give or take. The taint...it gives us a shortened lifespan and inhibits our ability to have children but gifts us with increased stamina and the ability to stop Blights. It's our sacrifice. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.” Anders smoothed a hand over the bedspread. “I'm sorry, Fenris.”

“How long have you been a warden, Anders?” Fenris scooted closer and leaned against his mage's shoulder. “How long do you think you have left?”

“It's been...ah...almost eight years, give or take? So, a good twenty years – assuming nothing’s changed since joining with Justice.” Anders sighed. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen. It was selfish of me...even Justice knows it was selfish.”

“Why? Because you will die? We will all die, Anders. The lyrium in my skin...who knows how long I have. We could die on this trip, or the next time Hawke decides to drag us to the Bone Pit.” The words were surprisingly firm and clear. “You won't die alone, Anders. I swear it.”

“Fenris...no. I would never let you...” Anders protested.

“When the time comes, I will go with you. We will fight and die together. I swear it. You will not go into the dark alone.” Fenris pressed a kiss to Anders' cheek. “You stood by me when Danarius came. You forgave me for pushing you away. Do you honestly think I would let you go off on some fool quest alone? To die alone? Silly mage.”

“Maker, Fenris. I don't deserve you,” Anders wiped at his face. “Well...and now that we've gotten all emotional and...” The words were cut off as Fenris tugged him around and into a kiss.

Gentle and sweet – the kiss warmed Anders and left him purring softly against his elf. “Fool mage,” Fenris whispered. “I love you. Do not forget that when we meet your Warden Commander.”

“I won't, Fenris. I swear that I won't,” Anders promised.

***

“I didn't think you could do it in two days,” Varric was leaning back in a chair by the fire. The group had gathered at Fenris' mansion to discuss the impending trip. Anders stood by the fire, a faint smile on his face. Fenris stood near him and watched as everybody settled down.

“Ah but Anders is a warden, my dear dwarf. He is capable of a great many things. All of them fantastical,” Zevran was lounging on the floor at Merrill's feet and grinned.

“Thank you, Zev. I know you mean my abilities to punch Hurlocks – yes?” Anders arched an eyebrow at the elf who simply laughed. “Right...so...”

“We've done the Deep Roads already. Twice.” Hawke groused. “I think we're good to go.”

“The first time we had an expedition at the beginning of that fun trip. And the second half? I'd like to avoid that travesty this time around. Or do you want another person to succumb to the taint? And I don’t even want to discuss that warden prison you and Carver dragged me off to. Ever.” Anders gave Hawke a hard look and she grimaced. “You follow my orders. Or, in a pinch, Zevran. He's no warden but he knows...don't you?”

“My Dove has given me explicit instructions on how to act in the Deep Roads. She prefers me not to go down there but she will have to forgive me this one time.” Zevran smiled wider when Merrill patted his hair. “Ah, My Lark, you are worried, no? It will all be ok. You will see.”

“Kitten, why is he calling you his little lark?” Isabela leaned forward and frowned at Zevran. “I swear, Zev. If you have seduced her...”

Zevran laughed while Merrill flushed, “Ah Bela, jealous? You should be. Lark is a lovely little bird, yes? So filled with song. But no, I have not touched her. I told you, I am devoted to My Dove. But this one is...sweet. She fluttered around me, worried that her hospitality would be not enough.”

Merrill, still flushed, let out a laugh, “He was the perfect gentleman, Izzy. He even helped finally fix that broken window. I like his nickname for me.”

“Ah, my little one, we shall have to watch you down in the Deep. You would be a tempting morsel for the darkspawn.” Zevran patted Merrill's knee and gave Varric a wide smile, the dwarf growling almost as well as Fenris. “Master Dwarf, you must relax. Lark may be a small songbird, but she is canny.”

Merrill just hummed, “Do you think I'll get to meet this Velanna? I would love to talk to her about her Clan.”

“Oh sweet Andraste no...” breathed Anders.

“Perhaps,” responded Zevran. “We must find them first, no?”

“Well, and on that frightening thought...we'll leave at first light. Be prepared.” Anders said, his face filled with concern. “Meet at Hawke’s. If we’re lucky, we can reach the entrance and maybe a bit down before our first stop. Pack only what you’ll need and dress for combat. And remember, do not touch your face if you encounter darkspawn blood or anything wet for that matter. If you get an open wound, tell me immediately. Should you start to feel light headed, nauseous, or woozy, tell me immediately. Should you contract the Blight sickness, only Eavan can help…and if Eavan helps, well, Maker help you.”

The group nodded, Anders’ warnings ringing in the room. For a few, brief moments, the entire group was somber. And then Hawke slapped her chair arm and stood. “Well, it’ll be fun. A real adventure. You’ll see. This trip is a great idea.”

“And now we’re doomed to all manner of horrific events – I bet at least one talking darkspawn shows up. Thank you, Hawke.” Anders groused.

“Hey! All of my ideas are good ones!” exclaimed Hawke indignantly.

“Yes sweet thing, but they usually also lead to a lot of bad circumstances. Come on. Let’s go home and spend one last night together. I don’t think we’ll have much privacy down in the nasty old Deep Roads,” Isabela pulled Hawke to her, smiled and waved at the group, and then led her lover out of Fenris’ mansion.

The rest of the group took that to mean they should leave too, all of them standing and stretching. Each person nodded at Anders before they left, Zevran stopping to take his hands.

“We’ll find her, Zev. Don’t worry,” Anders squeezed the slightly trembling fingers.

“I know you will not fail me,” Zev nodded, his face surprisingly serious. “You have grown, Anders. It shows. My Dove, she will be pleased. I am pleased. This elf…he is good for you, yes? I hope so. Now rest. I know how the dark bothers you. You are not delving alone, my friend. We all are going to go assault the dark together.”

“Always such a sweet talker, Zev,” Anders muttered, letting the elf’s hands drop. Zevran chuckled, swept an arm around Merrill, and sauntered from the room.

“He looked worried,” Fenris watched the two elves leave the mansion.

“He is scared for Eavan. And he hates the Deep Roads as much as I do. It will be hard on both of us if we go down there and find her dead,” Anders sighed. “Should we take Bun to Frans now?”

“Yes,” Fenris nodded. “Come, love. We shall take care of Bun and then come home to snuggle. As Isabela pointed out, there will be no privacy in the Deep Roads.”

“Ah,” Anders headed for the stairs slowing as memories hit. “Actually…Fenris…”

“Mage…” The word was said with amusement and some resignation. “Tell me you did not…in the Deep Roads?”

“Oh well…I mean. I can say I didn’t and we can leave it at that…” Anders started up the stairs.

“Mage!” Fenris followed, his eyes wide. “With who?”

“Oh well…let me think…” Anders bit his lip and picked up his pace.

“You do not remember?” The words were incredulous.

“It was a long time ago and I was very wild back then!” Anders called, rushing to get Bun.

Fenris let out a slightly peeved sigh, shook his head, and then chuckled. He supposed he would be seeing another side of his lover on this trip…a side that Isabela had hinted at but the group had not believed. It would be interesting and possibly even a little nerve-wracking.

Fenris watched Anders come out of the room with Bun and a bag with her things and had to smile. He may be a ridiculous mage, but he was Fenris’ mage. And that made him, well, nearly perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut. This is just a chapter of smut with fluff...

Fenris admired the play of light over Anders’ pale skin, the darker purple of the corset a lovely accent to the mage’s creamy complexion. Two fingers slid down the mage’s left buttocks and then into the muscle to tease over nerves. Keening and biting down on his pillow, Anders’ legs shook as his hips dropped, pleasure spiraling higher. Fenris frowned and withdrew his fingers, a slap ringing through the room as lyrium-lined hand met freckled ass.

“Hips up, Anders. Keep them there.” Fenris growled, rubbing lightly over the reddened mark. Anders gave a groan and pushed up higher on his knees, his hips swaying slowly.

The mage was cinched into a deep purple underbust corset edged with black lace. Black lace stockings with purple ribboned tops were pulled up his legs. Other than the corset, the stockings, and his torque, the mage was naked. Naked and aroused, on his knees with his chest pressed into the bed, hips high and erection straining. Fenris admired the pretty picture a moment more before returning to his torment, trailing fingers back down Anders’ thigh and then into the meat of the muscle, dragging them inside and up to toy at the crease of leg and hip.

Anders whimpered, biting off the noise. Fenris frowned at that and dragged his fingers back behind the mage’s sack, pressing back into the tender skin. That made Anders finally lift his head and beg. 

“Oh please, oh please Fen. Please. Let me cum. Please,” The words poured from Anders, breathless and earnest. 

Fenris’ other hand slid between the mage’s and toyed with the small wooden loop that pressed just against the mage’s opening. Anders let out another groan as Fenris pressed up more with his fingers and the elf watched with interest as the mage’s hips bucked forward to thrust at the air. 

“Mm...you may cum, Anders,” Fenris purred, pulling on the wooden loop as Anders started to shudder. 

The first bead to be pulled from Anders made the mage shout, the sudden feelings of fullness and release pushing his orgasm higher. Each bead that was pulled from him made him twitch and moan loudly till he was gibbering incoherently and sprawled on the bed.

“Beautiful. You are so beautiful. You were right about these. I do love pushing your limits like this. I love seeing you so uninhibited,” Fenris murmured, placing the beads on a side table and then gathering Anders up into a cuddle. “Are you alright?”

“Mm...that was amazing,” Anders slurred, nuzzling into Fenris’ neck. 

“Think you can go one more round?” The elf had been toying with his mage for a while now, keeping him on the edge of orgasm until Anders could no longer hold in his noises. “Is this still ok? You need to tell me.”

“Mm...one more go in me, I think. And then a bath and then sleep.” Anders pressed a kiss to Fenris’ neck. “What do you want?”

“For you to be in me,” Fenris murmured. “To feel your pleasure. To watch you come undone as I ride you.”

“Maker, Fenris.” Anders goggled a bit. “You’re going to kill me.”

Fenris’ response was to chuckle and press a kiss to Anders’ cheek. “Do you need a moment?”

“Not after that, no,” Anders rolled to his back and stretched, palming himself. “Sweet Maker, you get two tonight and then a bath.”

“Mm...fine. Left your legs for me, love,” Fenris rolled from the bed and padded over to a small chest, bending over and digging through it. Anders tilted his head, admiring his lover, anticipation swirling through him.

“I thought you were going to ride me,” He pulled his legs up anyway, but curiosity was in every word.

“I am,” Fenris turned with a smile, the stone dildo purchased in val royeaux in one hand. Carved from obsidian, it was a graceful curve with a wide base. Anders wiggled a little, nodding at the silent question, and Fenris chuckled, grabbing the pot of oil on his way back to the bed. 

A moment to spread the oil on the dildo and Fenris was slowly pushing it into Anders who gave a little gasp. “Cold…” he whispered before groaning and wriggling his hips. He rolled his eyes to see Fenris coating two fingers in oil and slowly sliding them back into himself...the sight of the elf stretching and pleasuring himself making Anders groan louder.

Fenris pushed in a third finger, catching Anders’ eyes as he slowly rode his own hand. He gave a sharp laugh as Anders reached for him, and he shook his head. His mage sighed and finally conjured a handful of slick to apply to his cock.

“Fen...need you…” Anders whispered. “Please love.”

The words spurred Fenris to straddle his mage, wiggling into position. Anders didn’t touch him, didn’t press or thrust up and instead let his elf set the pace. There was a brief moment of pressure and the Fenris and Anders were gasping together as Anders’ cock slowly slid up into the elf.  
He was surrounded by heat, filled full by the dildo...pleasure roiling from his toes and higher, languid waves of tingles. Anders inhaled sharply, breath stuttering as Fenris started to move over him. He could only watch as Fenris arched and gasped, green eyes fluttering closed as he chased his own pleasure.

Finally, Anders slid a hand over one lyrium-lined hip, dragged fingers over Fenris’ stomach and then down to wrap around his straining cock - cupping him, gripping and stroking the elf in time with his thrusts till Fenris gave a shout and came, quivering but not stopping, driving Anders higher and higher until he also yelled - bellowed and spasmed, toes curling as he emptied himself into Fenris. 

“Who is carrying whom to the bath?” Anders whimpered. “Because I can’t feel my feet.”

“Mm?” was the best Fenris could do, now draped over Anders like a warm elf-shaped blanket. “What?”

“Bath. We need to take one. We’ll both be sore if we don’t. And I’m...sticky…” Anders ran a hand down Fenris’ back.

It was in moments like this - limp and warm and loose from lovemaking, that Anders found Fenris to be the cuddliest. The elf nuzzled closer to his mage and let out a soft purr, pressing gentle kisses over one collarbone. “In a moment. I wish to simply hold you.”

“Are you alright?” There was always worry that Fenris would fall into a bad memory, that Anders taking him would result in emotional trauma. It was rare for Fenris to allow it and even then, most times the elf requested to be on top. Anders always asked and then waited for Fenris to tell him he wasn’t drifting away in a memory or a nightmare.

“I love you,” the words weren’t the ones expected. “I respect you.” Even more surprising words.

“Fenris…” 

“You told me about the wardens and proved yet again that you are more of a man than any mage in Tevinter. That you are an exception.” Fenris propped himself up to look at Anders. “You are a good man, Anders. Not a mage...a man.”

“What brought this on?” Anders wondered, marveling at the words.

“We could be going to our death tomorrow. I would not face such peril without you knowing how much I value you. How much I wish I could be worthy of you. I try, every day, to be the man you deserve,” Fenris was serious, face set and eyes wide. “Every day I remind myself that you deserve happiness, to be free. To not be chained down by me.”

“You don’t chain me.” Anders chided softly. “And you deserve happiness as much as I do.”

“I…” Fenris frowned. “Still struggle with this. With my past…”

“I do too, Fenris. It’s something we will both have to work through for the rest of our lives. And I am...grateful...that I can do that with you.” Anders smiled then, a wide happy smile. “Now, I am going to drag you off to the bath and scrub your back. And then we will soak and relax and then sleep.”

Fenris gazed at him and then nodded. “Do you?” He seemed hesitant to ask the question he was wanting to and Anders tilted his head before understanding hit him.

“I love you too, Fenris.” The words were quickly said. “I love you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders kicks ass in the Deep Roads...And Justice helps!
> 
> Finding the wardens means a family reunion for Anders...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eavan Tabris is the first Tabris I played in DA:Origins. She always will be my favorite.

Ten days in the Deep Roads and most of the group was starting to feel like they would never find the wardens - and if they did, the group would be dead. None of them could understand how long wardens could last in the Deep Roads. None of them had the same frame of reference that Anders and Zevran did.

Zevran had been with Eavan when she had found Branka. Anders had done several Deep Road missions with her and his fellows wardens. They both knew that a well-prepared warden group could, if they didn’t inadvertently stumble into a nest, last quite a while underground.

The dark was getting to everybody: the dark, the inability to tell day from night, the silence that was only broken by the sounds of lava or water or their own breathing - it was eating at them. Throw in the darkspawn attacks, and the group was on edge.

Anders understood the fears and accommodated for them - letting them take frequent breaks to rest and eat. He led the group - much to Fenris’ annoyance. They had argued over that. He was, Fenris had yelled, a mage. A soft, squishy mage. Anders had listened to the ranting and said that he may be a mage, but he was a warden mage. Fenris had told him that that didn’t change the fact that he should be back and protected.

The elf’s protestations were laid to rest when they encountered their first group of darkspawn. Anders didn’t even slow down. He had felt them, a nauseating scrabbling in the back of his mind, and had stopped the group, had braced himself in the middle of the road and had waited...knowing the darkspawn would keep coming, that they could sense him as much as he could sense them. And they had. A group of genlocks with two hurlocks. A small group - scouts probably.

Anders had stood there in the hall, ignoring Fenris’ yelling, ignoring Zevran telling them all to just wait, and had watched as the darkspawn ran towards him. When he could smell the foul miasma of darkspawn and taint, he had loosed a fireball, cast a shield over himself, and had waded into the remaining few with his staff swinging and lightning flaring from his hands. In moments, the darkspawn were dead and the group was quiet with mouths agape.

None had ever pictured Anders fighting knots of darkspawn. No matter how many enemies they had felled together, no matter they had seen Anders cast offensive spells,  the sight of him skillfully bringing down the darkspawn alone had impressed them. Anders had glanced back and told them he could handle the smaller groups. They, he said, were for the bigger groups - for the ones he and Justice couldn’t handle on their own. Not for the small scouting parties 

Fenris hadn’t nagged him once after that - instead praising him out loud while visually checking him for injuries.

Ten days later and they group was strung out and moving slowly, little bits of groaning and moaning being muttered under breath. Anders was walking ahead, amused by how much bitching everybody was doing - minus Zevran, who was a silent shadow at his side.

At the back of his mind came scratching. And then something...something he hadn’t felt in years. A kinship...a knowing. “Shh…” he hissed, holding up his hand as he shuffled forward towards a bend in the road. “Shh...yes…” He cocked his head. Closed his eyes.

And took off running.

He heard the group yell, but he didn’t stop. He could feel them. A group of wardens up ahead with a horde of darkspawn. He couldn’t tell how many, but it was more than the wardens for sure.

He gained the corner and skidded to a stop, nearly running into Nathaniel as he slid on the slick stone. The archer had his bow up and was firing arrows nonstop into a roiling horde of darkspawn. There was a pause as brown eyes widened and the word Anders was whispered in shock - and then he was firing arrows again and said in desperation, “She’s in the middle of them and injured.”

Not bothering to stop, Anders rushed towards the melee, staff out and magic already flaring around him. He couldn’t see her. He felt the zing of magic and heard a loud laugh - Oghren probably - but he couldn’t see Eavan. A hurlock fell, blood spraying, and then there she was - a tiny, blood-soaked elf - rage incarnate, mouth open in a scream as she lunged down with both daggers and then back up again, swinging to block an attack from behind, rolling away and coming up only to leap onto the hurlock that had tried to decapitate her.

The wardens were too interspersed in the horde of darkspawn. He couldn’t cast a fireball or lightning storm safely. Fear for Eavan...for his friends...welled up and Justice pushed forward and Anders let him. He felt the strength of the Fade fill his limbs, felt his grip on his staff shift as if he was hefting a sword, and then he was striding into the fray - a figure wreathed in crackling blue power.

***

Fenris had watched as Anders stopped, a look of confusion and then dawning recognition crossing his face. When the mage had taken off running, Fenris had shouted and followed - only to come up short at the sight of the massive battle raging around the corner. He watched with shock as Anders’ skin crackled, as Justice took control, as Fade blue lit up the gloom right before the mage waded into combat.

And he could only stare with his mouth open as Justice/Anders decimated the darkspawn around them. Lightning was loosed with precision, frying genlocks and taking down hurlocks. His staff swung around him, the long blade cutting into bodies left and right. He battled to the side of an elf - blood-covered and wielding wicked daggers that were nearly the size of short swords. The elf glanced up at Anders, seemed to yell something, and then screamed - her words rising above the din.

“Wardens! Push them back!”

A cry rose up, manic and wild, and for a moment the darkspawn horde paused. But only for a moment. And then they parted as the ground started to rumble and an ogre appeared. The elf screamed again. “Ogre! Get back! Lucky, to me!”A large, brindled mabari snarled and charged the ogre, jaws snapping at the beast’s ankles.

She streaked towards the monstrous thing, leaving Justice/Anders behind to deal with the smaller darkspawn. Fenris took a step forward - realizing he hadn’t even helped - and found himself and the group stopped by a tall man holding a bow.

“They got this.” He said, a grin twitching his lips. “Looks like Anders learned something new.”

“Ah...yes,” Was all Fenris could say, wincing as Justice tore the head off a genlock and threw it into the dwindling mass, his bellow of “Justice” rising over the din of combat. “He will be exhausted after that.”

“I’m Nathaniel Howe,” The archer leaned on his bow, seemingly unconcerned that the elven woman had climbed the ogre using her daggers and was currently plunging them into the beast’s eyes. “You all aren’t wardens. What are you doing down here?”

“Nathaniel,” Zevran stopped next to Fenris. “We are here for you all, of course.”

“Oh...of course,”Nathaniel murmured, “How silly of me. Non-wardens coming into the Deep Roads to save wardens. Happens all the time. Eavan is going to shit a genlock.”

“Now, now, My Dove…” Zevran started…

“Is going to be pissed off that Anders is not dead,” Nathaniel finished. “Unless...she knew...Zevran. You didn’t tell us!”

“I thought she would have,” the blond elf shrugged, glancing over to the combat. “Ah, she has taken down an ogre. She will be in a fine mood.”

***

Justice/Anders watched as the stragglers from the Horder were brought down. Shaking their head, Anders begged to have control again - there were wounded wardens that needed healing. Justice was reluctant to let go, however. He cautioned Anders that the mage would be weak after the combat, vulnerable. Anders argued back that they would be fine if they could just get some lyrium into them.

Their argument was interrupted by a hand wrapping itself in their tabard and yanking down, pulling them face-to-face with the small elf.

“COMMANDER. WE…” Justice started, stopping in shock as the elf threw down her knives and wrapped her arms around their neck. “COMMANDER!”

“I didn’t believe it. I didn’t. When Zevran told me...I thought, no. They didn’t. They’re dead. But you aren’t. Neither of you are. I thought I had lost you both to the stupidity of command but...here you are.” She pressed her face against their neck and inhaled. “Justice. Is that you?”

“WE ARE SORRY TO HAVE DISTRESSED YOU, COMMANDER. THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY,” Justice frowned and then wrapped his arms around the elf, standing so that her legs dangled. “WE HAVE MISSED YOU.”

“Let me talk to Anders. He is in there, right? Let me talk to him.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and cupped stubble-covered cheeks with leather-covered hands. “Anders?” 

Anders shuddered and wobbled, catching himself before he could fall or collapse. He was exhausted, Justice having expending more energy than he had expected. But she was light and staring at him with wide, brown eyes. “Eavan…I…”

“I thought you dead. We thought you dead. And you’re not. You’re here. You came when we needed you.” She pressed their foreheads together. “I was so mad when I heard. Hurt...angry...and then Zevran calmed me and I realized, what else could you do? I had abandoned you.”

“No. Weisshaupt…” Anders started, stopping with Eavan growled.

“Those SHEM have been dealt with. And should they EVER think to step foot in Ferelden I shall geld them and toss their sad excuses for bodies into the Deep Roads. Blighted Bronto-fucking nug lickers.” Eavan spat.

“Hah!” A loud laugh caught Anders’ attention and then he was staggering forward under the force of a backslap. “She’s improved with her cursing. Learned from the best.”

“Oghren.” Anders rolled his eyes and glanced down at the dwarf. “You look...exactly the same as the last time I saw you. Covered in blood and vomit…”

“Vomits mine. I may have been drinking…” Eavan snorted and Oghren grinned “some deepstalker brew I made.”

“I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me, please. Is anybody else here?” Anders tried to peer around Eavan and then staggered again at another backslap.

“Knew you weren’t dead,” A voice said from his elbow. “Good to see you, Anders. Glad you’re alright. And Justice too! That’s an amazing combo. Never thought I’d see a genlock’s head fly so far.”

“Sigrun?” Anders let out a laugh.

“In the flesh. Still only partially dead. Though I’m kicking it with Nate now. So…” He got a pointed look.

“I...am with somebody…” Anders blustered out, grinning sheepishly when Nathaniel chuckled.

Eavan patted his cheek and slid from his arms, her eyes narrowing. “Zevran Arainai...get your ass over here. I know you’re back there.”

“My Dove. Do not be mad. I was concerned…” The blond elf stepped from behind Nathaniel and then dodged a punch. “Now, do not be like that.”

“You’re in the Deep Roads. I thought I said no to the Deep Roads,” Eavan let out another growl, Anders trying to smother a grin. “We’ll..discuss this later. Alone.”

“I look forward to it,”murmured Zevran, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I do so enjoy wrestling with you.”

Eavan’s hmph had even Nathaniel coughing down a laugh. A grumble behind him heralded the arrival of the rest of the group. “Ah...Eavan…” Anders started.

“Two seconds. Dworkin? You got that shit rigged or what?” Eavan called over her shoulder.

“Ah-yep. And Velanna said she’s good to trigger it. We may want to vacate the immediate area. Would be safest to drag out the injured and heal after the blast...keep us from having to fight another group,” A dust-covered dwarf hurried up to Eavan, followed by a willowy blond elf.

“I am ready. We should be able to be well back before I trigger anything,” The elf said, stopping when she noticed Anders. “Well, well, well. Shem. You aren’t dead.”

“Ah...Velanna. It’s lovely to see you. You look great! I...oof!” Anders staggered back as she punched him in the gut. “Always….so gracious.”

“That’s for making the Commander cry. Don’t make me deal with you out in the open. Apologize,” Velanna raise an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry! So sorry. We both are. Justice and I are both sorry. Please don’t summon trees,” Anders help up his hands in defeat. “We were wrong. So very, very wrong.”

A growl at his side made him swallow. “Touch him again and I’ll have your head.”

“Oo...you and what Shem army, flat-ear?” Velanna asked archly, sweeping past Fenris with a sniff.

“Shut it,” growled Eavan. “Carver! How many wounded?”

“We have three that’ll need carrying out. I can...handle...it...sister…” Carver Hawke came jogging up, slowing as Anya walked into view. “What are you doing here?”

“Carver?” Hawke started forward, stopping when Eavan stepped in her way. “I…”

“Family reunions later. Closing up that blighted Thaig is more important. You’re Anya Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall? I’m Eavan Tabris, Commander of Ferelden’s wardens. I don’t know why you’re down here and I suspect it has to do with Zevran but there’s a large horde of darkspawn in those tunnel. Darkspawn that could threaten Kirkwall and the Free Marches. Not to mention that lyrium...we’re going to blow this tunnel and then get the hell out.” Eavan nodded. “Now back. We’re covered in tainted blood and unless you have a sudden desire to be a warden, I’d recommend you back away.”

Hawke opened her mouth and then shut it, nodding. Carver turned to Eavan, his scowl easing as she whispered to him, patted his shoulder and sent him back towards the cave. “Alright you nug-humpers. Everybody grab a wounded. We are humping out of here in five. We got a five day hike to the surface and we’re near a city. You know what that means?”

“Booze!”

“Hot food!”

“A fucking bath!” That one came from Anders as he chimed in, making Eavan laugh.

“You get this tunnel blown and drinks and food are on me for the first night - all you can eat. And I know how much you asses can eat. Dworkin, Velanna...make this fucker drop. Anders, you’re with the wounded. There’s a kid...Twyla! Get your skinny ass over here.” A young woman jogged over, brown hair in pigtails. “Twyla, this is Anders. Learn from him. Best damn spirit healer and I was with Wynne during the blight. Anders - we lose a Warden and I’m taking it out of your ass.”

“You always say the sweetest things, Eavan,” Anders grinned.

“Mm...not the fun way, Anders. People! We have darkspawn to stop and stone to crush. MOVE IT!” She snapped her fingers, the mabari trotting up, and then headed down the tunnel.

“That’s the Hero of Ferelden?” Fenris was blinking in shock. “She’s…”

“So tiny.” Hawke said in amazement. “Did you see her take down that ogre?”

“She took down the archdemon,” Anders reminded them. “Twyla, right?” Anders turned to the young woman. “I’m Anders. Shall we go set up triage.”

“I will come with you, mage. I do not trust your wardens. You were punched.” Fenris muttered, eying Twyla closely.

“Oh well...that’s just how we say hello,” Anders grinned, starting to follow Eavan. He heard Oghren let out a large belch and then Carver start laughing. Sigrun was humming while she shoved a barrel against a far wall, Nathaniel hovering near her and gesturing with his hands. He looked over the fallen darkspawn to the wardens working and gave a smile. “It’s a family thing. You’ll see. Now Twyla, tell me all about your healing training. I want to know what I’m working with here.”

Fenris watched him lead the young warden off, the woman starting to giggle as he told a joke. He glanced back over to the group preparing to blow the tunnel. They were all laughing and joking now, the grim violence having splintered under the heady excitement of winning another battle and the prospect of a hot meal. This was Anders family, he realized, his gut clenching. And they all seemed to want him back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making it out of the Deep Roads
> 
> Eavan and Fenris talk - and come to an understanding of each other
> 
> Anders Shimmies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but as fun as this chapter sounds it also makes me a little...emotional. Writing about the Awakening crew and the wardens celebrating another successful trip to the Deep Roads is just...emotional.

Eavan had said five days to the surface and she had meant it - five days of straight marching. The Wardens set off one more group of charges, the dull roar of the explosions and the flying dust making the wardens trade back slaps and cheer, Hawke and her group watching on in amused amazement. The amusement wore off after day two - when it appeared that warden stamina was no joke and used for things other than sex.

Five days, Eavan had said, and she hadn’t be lying. When they walked from the Deep Roads the evening of the fifth day, when sky was overhead instead of rock, when the wind kissed skin and the air smelled crisp and clean - Hawke and her friends collapsed in a heap and the wardens let out a deafening cheer, raising hands to the sky and falling to kiss the sparse blades of grass that were slowly dying off in the late Fall cold. 

They camped just down the hill from the cave entrance, the wardens taking pity on their non-warden companions and not force-marching to Kirkwall. Fenris watched with amusement as Anders scampered around with the other wardens - tents going up at breakneck speed so that fires could be lit. Nathaniel and a few other wardens set out to hunt, coming back with braces of rabbit that were quickly cleaned, dressed, and put on spits. Food cooking, tents up, the camp settled - the wardens looked at each other and all started laughing as if in relief.

“Hey Sparklefingers!” The dwarven warden, Oghren, was lounging in front of his tent, flask at his lips and a gleam in his eyes. “Been a few years. You going to shimmy for us or what?”

“I haven’t shimmied since I last saw you guys,” Anders responded, blushing as Nathaniel, Sigrun, Oghren, and Zevran offered up encouragement. “Oh...Justice wouldn’t approve...I don’t think I even remember…” Anders blustered.

“What do they speak of?” Fenris asked while watching in amusement as Sigrun started to dance around one of the fire pits.

“Oh well...Fenris...I don’t…” Anders fumbled.

“He used to celebrate each successful Deep Roads trip with a good shimming dance around the fire,” Eavan was there, having appeared silently from behind their tent. “As your Commander, I must insist.”

“Eavan!” Anders wailed. “You wouldn’t…”

“Consider it payback for making me think you were dead. And you’re in too many clothes to do this, I say you should start stripping down there, Warden Anders. Wardens! A proper shimmy for a proper Deep Roads trip. Yes?” She called over her shoulder, laughter making her eyes sparkle. “Can’t disappoint them.”

“I don’t have the proper robes…” Anders muttered as he started unbuckling his tabard. “Always brought the Tevinter-inspired ones for a good shimmy. Can’t shimmy in pants.”

There was a breathless moment and then Zevran threw something at him. They were Anders’ old robes - blue and gold silks a little rumpled, feathers a little ruffled. Anders touched the robes and glanced at Fenris, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

“No, Danarius did not own any such outlandish outfits. And he most certainly did not shimmy in them,” the words were filled with dry amusement. “They are not as shimmy-worthy as your regular robes, though.”

Anders perked up at that, shy happiness filling his face, “The ones we wore to Orlais would be excellent for a shimmy.”

“Blondie, you need those green corseted ones you wore to the Hanged Man the other night. Andraste’s nipples, those stockings….” Varric’s tone was reverent, eyes snapping with amusement.

Fenris growled at Varric and Anders let out a loud laugh, gathering up the robes and ignoring the shocked looks on his warden friends’ faces. “A moment.”

“You do the shimmy and I’ll give you back your cat,” Nathaniel called, making Anders come to a stop.

“You have my cat?” The words were thrown over Anders’ shoulder. “Where?”

“Pounce? He’s in my tent napping.” There was the rustle of fabric and then a loud yowl. “See, but he wants a shimmy. Get to it.”

“Oh I’ll shimmy alright. Best Maker-dammed shimmy they’ve ever seen.” Anders muttered. “And then I’m getting my cat back and not letting him out of my sight again.” He stalked into his tent and let the flap fall.

Fenris shook his head and then blinked, surprised that Eavan was still there. “Commander?”

“Mm, only to the wardens and only when we’re being formal. Call me Eavan,” She gave a sigh and sat down, pulling off leather gloves and stretching. “Zevran told me that Anders had taken up with an elf.”

“My mage and I have been together for several months now,” Fenris acknowledged, stressing the “my mage.” He watched as Eavan’s lips twitched in a half-smile. She had been jovial a moment before but now it was as if all excitement had leaked away, burned away under the burden of something, something Fenris couldn’t be sure of. Couldn’t put his finger on. He watched her brown eyes take in her wardens, considering and watching - separate but a part of them.

“Yours,” She said finally, as if the words had been turned over in her mind and accepted. “He was never my mage. We did dally together, yes. He was alone, I was…” Her lips twisted into something pained. “I needed comfort then, and Anders has always been good at comfort.”

“He is compassionate. He always gives too much of himself,” Fenris watched something sad cross her face.

“You’re not a Marcher, not Orlesian, not Ferelden. Where?” Her boot scuffed the dirt, almost absentmindedly, eyes tracing over his face and lingering on the marks.

“Tevinter,” He watched something else flash in her eyes, something hot and violent.

“Slave,” she muttered. “Bastard Vints with their fucking slaves.”

“Anders helped me kill my former master,” Fenris offered, slightly afraid the woman next to him was about immolate from her rage. Had he looked like this back then? A shaking, hot star of anger? Had Anders faced that in him?

“Good. May his soul rot in the void. No good comes from that place.” Her hands clenched briefly before she slowly relaxed. “Your markings?”

“My master’s work,” He took one of her hands, fearing she would injure herself. His actions made him stop suddenly, ears twitching and turning red.

Her ears were turning red. The two of them looked at their hands and then each other and something - something familiar - passed between them. She gripped his hand, tight and secure, and leaned forward to speak.

“I saved my father from slavers. The Regent of Ferelden had sold the Alienage elves to them for money to fund his Civil War. I could not save them all - our elder had already been shipped to Tevinter along with so many others - children, elderly... I took the magister’s head, but only after I gutted him and watched the life bleed from his eyes and heard his pleas become death rattles.” The words were whispered, hard and rasping.

“I pulled the still beating heart from my former master and crushed it in my fist,” Fenris whispered back. “I tore the spine from his apprentice. I decimated his hunters.” They both sat quietly for a moment, “What did you do about the Regent?”

“I took his head, put my lover on the throne, and locked his daughter away. I left a river of blood through the Arl of Denerim’s estate...twice. I’d do it again.” Eavan closed her eyes. “The Commander who took over for me at the Vigil? The one who allowed in the templars?”

“Anders spoke of him,” 

“His head was on the wall for a month. The remaining templars were delivered to the Chantry in chains with a warning that should they ever try to infiltrate my order again I would personally burn down the chantry and leave their corpses for the crows,” Her eyes lifted and caught Zevran’s. “No pun intended.”

That made Fenris chuckle a little, “We are alike.”

“Poor Anders.” was the quick retort.

“Are you kidding?” Anders had stepped out in time to hear their grizzly comparisons. “He’s the best thing since you left.”

Eavan and Fenris turned their eyes up to take in the mage - now outfitted in the flamboyant Tevinter robes. His chest was visible from the feathered shoulders to the top of the laced waist. The skirts fell to his ankles in a fall of silk. He gave a practice shimmy and winked at Fenris before skipping to the fire, much to the joy of every warden in camp.

“My fellow wardens!” Anders called, watching as every face turned to face him. “One shimmy and then I get my cat back!”

Nathaniel let out a laugh. “I see you still have your nipple piercings. That elf of yours find your other ones?”

“Other one whats?” Merrill had turned to look at Carver in confusion. She had seen him in the Deep Roads and had waited till they were nearly to the surface to approach him - fear that the handsome human would not be happy to see her. Her fears had been unfounded. Carver had not left her side since then, refusing to touch her till he had cleaned and changed. Now she sat perched on his lap, leaning back against his broad chest, an inquisitive smile on her face.

“I don’t think I want to answer that,” Carver muttered.

Isabela had tipped over and was curled up, laughing hysterically while Hawke was gaping at Anders’ crotch. Sebastian had fled to his tent. Varric was beet red and pulling out pen and ink, muttering about a new serial.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at Nathaniel and growled out, “I believe what Anders has on under his robe is none of your business.” Everybody inhaled as Fenris stood and flashed his tattoos. “But to answer your question, his elf has found everything on the mage’s body...and would like to buy you a drink later to say thank you.”

The entire camp burst into laughter, Anders gaping at Fenris - who strode to him and pulled him into a possessive kiss - making the laughter ratchet up into catcalls and howls.

“Your family is ridiculous,” Fenris muttered against his mage’s lips.

“It’s just relief at being alive,” Anders whispered back. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shimmy so that we may procure your cat. I would not return home with a morose mage,” Fenris slapped Anders on his ass, much to Nathaniel’s amusement, and went back to sit next to Eavan.

Anders gave an experimental hip shake, clapped his hands, and started a celebratory shimmy around the fire. Two circuits and he was joined by Sigrun...and then Velanna...and then Zevran. And finally, Eavan stood and went to dance, pulling Carver up - who dragged Nathaniel in. Before too much longer every warden in camp was dancing around the fire, hands to the sky, eyes closed - celebrating another successful trip to the Deep Roads where they all managed to cheat death and come back out alive.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eavan talks to Justice about his goals...
> 
> And then perhaps loses her temper...
> 
> Half of the gang is bunking with Anders & Fenris. Just how is that going to go over?

“I understand why you left, but why Kirkwall? This place is a pit, no insult to those who like the place,” Eavan was settled in Varric’s suite in the Hanged Man, the dwarf just grunted at her in response. He wasn’t going to argue - parts of the city were, quite literally, pits.

Part of Eavan’s motley crew was down in the main room drinking - Dworkin overseeing the younger wardens. Her senior wardens, and Zevran, had joined Hawke’s group upstairs to talk in relative quiet. Varric’s suit was fit to bursting with people leaning in corners and sitting on the floor.

“The Gallows is one of the worst Circles in Thedas. We thought, Justice and I, that we could do the most good here,” Anders was staring moodily into his cider . Now that they were out of the Deep Roads, he fully expected to be punished and chained, dragged back to Vigil and thrown in the dungeons.

Eavan hummed and stood, moving around the table and tapping Anders’ arm. “Scoot back.”

He glanced up at her and wordless followed her instructions, pushing his chair back so that she could perch on the table and stare him in the face. He kept his eyes down, fingers fidgeting. Not even the quiet purr of Pounce, the cat curled on his lap, could help calm him.

“Justice. Talk to me,” Eaven lifted Anders’ face to hers. “Now.”

The group watched as blue surged over Anders’ skin. His eyes were the last things to change and Eavan saw fear in the warm honey brown a moment before they went blue. “COMMANDER.” Justice stiffened, Anders’ body coming to attention. Beside them, Fenris growled softly, possessively.

Ignoring the elf for now, Eavan tilted her head, “What is here that is so important?”

“WE SEEK AN END TO THE OPPRESSION. WE SEEK TO FREE THE MAGES FROM THE SHACKLES OF THE TEMPLAR. WE SEEK AN END TO THE KNIGHT COMMANDER,” Justice answered simply.

There was a snort from Aveline and then some muttering about how she should arrest the lot of them. Her mutters were silenced as the Warden Commander turned hard eyes to the Captain of the Guard. Assured that there would be no further talk of arrests, Eavan returned to gazing at Justice, “And after?”

“THE MAGES MUST HAVE FREEDOM,” Justice said, leaning forward. “JUST AS THE ELVES SHOULD BE FREE. SLAVES FREED,” at those words, Justice turned his eyes to Fenris. “TEVINTER ENDED.”

Fenris opened his mouth and shut it at a look from Eavan. “Those are lofty goals, Justice. But Anders is one man. And sworn to my side, if you remember. You make him forsworn by taking him from the wardens.”

That brought the spirit up, his eyes widening. “OUR LEAVING WAS AN INJUSTICE. ONE WE MUST REMEDY.”

Nathaniel muttered something about starting off with a decent apology and shut up when Eavan pinned him under her stare. “Not another word,” she said mildly. The senior wardens all shuffled and clamped their lips together. “Justice, I will listen to your petition and we will see what can be done. But I am in charge. I am your Commander. You will listen to me, understand? And when we are done, you will return with me to Vigil. You and Anders.”

Fenris stood at that, “You may not have him.” Tattoos flashing, Fenris reached for his sword.

And Eavan just smiled, “You think I’d drag him away without you? You are free to come as you are and either find work around Vigil or work for me. Or, if you feel inclined, you may attempt the Joining, though I think Anders would have words with me if I conscripted you. There is no Blight, I have no need for more wardens. But I do have need of people that can train them, that can be sent on jobs that require a more...neutral...hand. Zevran handles a lot for me, but he could use help. I know Anders fears punishment, but I’d say living in Kirkwall is punishment enough. Come home to us Anders, Justice. Come home where you will be safe.”

Anders shook, skin returning to pale and freckled, eyes settling back into honey brown. “You’d let him come with me? You’d come with me?” He turned to gaze up at Fenris.

“I told you, fool mage, that if you had to return I would go with you.” Fenris shook his head. “Remind me to impress this upon you more firmly when we are alone.”

“Or you could do it here, yes? We would not mind the show,” Zevran appeared behind Anders, a wide grin on his face.

Fenris ignored the other elf and sat, eyes on Eavan, “You have no stake in this. I thought wardens remained neutral to politics and...other causes. Is that not what Stroud said during the Qunari uprising?”

“Yes well,” Eavan sighed and leaned back, her face scrunching up while Zevran and Oghren began to chuckle. “It all started at Ostagar when one man decided his personal vendetta against Orlais trumped King, Country, and Blight. Loghain, that traitorous bastard, abandoned us on the field of battle. If not for the intervention of a very powerful witch...I’d be dead.”

“And what does that have to do with Kirkwall?” Hawke asked, head tilting. “I mean, I want to hear the story. I’m just curious.”

“The whole story? We’d need Leliana for that and she’s...mm...with the Chantry now, right Zev?” Eavan turned her eyes to the blond elf who nodded. “It was just Alistair and I. Two new Grey Wardens and me an elf. Alistair…” Eavan pondered how to explain what happened.

“It is hard to explain how a King deferred to an elf, no?” Zevran piped up.

“Best damn decision the pup ever made,” Oghren said with a belch. “He’s turned into a right fine King but I gotta say Commander, he would have been shit leading us.”

“Could you imagine him talking to Bhelen?” Eavan was looking over her shoulder at Oghren, her eyes comically wide. “He’d have put Harrowmont on the throne because he was nicer.”

“Bunch of bloody nug-humpers,” Oghren spit, amused to see Varric nodding in agreement. “See, even the fresh-faced surfacer agrees.”

“Oghren. Behave. Anyway, so it was just Alistair and I. Neither of us trained and me an elf. Alistair...he didn’t want to lead and I was...angry at the world. I took the reigns, so the speak. We needed help. We needed allies. That meant making deals...dabbling in politics. I took care of the Circle of Magi,” She grinned at Anders’ snort.

“She killed all of the abominations and blood mages,” Anders said wryly. “And what did you tell the Knight Commander?”

Eavan just smiled, ignoring Anders’ question with a headshake. “I cleaned out the mage Circle, I ended a centuries old feud between werewolves and the Dalish, I put a King on the throne in Orzammar and one on the throne of Ferelden. Ask me again about sticking my nose in it.”

Hawke snapped her jaw shut, “Point taken. Well, welcome to Kirkwall. I suppose we should find housing…”

“Eavan can stay with us. In fact, we probably have room for several people.” Anders said, wincing as Fenris growled. “Please?”

“Carver can stay with me,” Merrill said, much to everybody’s amusement. “What?”

“Oh Kitten,” Isabela laughed. “He’d better treat you well. Or Anya and I will be talking to him.”

Hawke just smiled, “I have room for a bunch as well.”

Eavan glanced around and nodded, “Well then, I guess we should divvy up the troops and get some sleep. Anders, tomorrow I’d like you to show me what you’ve been doing here and show me the Gallows.”

“Cullen’s here now,” Anders spit the words out quickly, wanting to get that bit of news out before the Commander saw him tomorrow. “I heard...we all heard...about you two meeting.”

A small, vicious smile was tilting up Eavan’s lips and Zevran pushed between her and Anders, alarm on his face, “No my Dove. No.”

“Ser Cullen you say?” the words were so quietly spoken that the entire room shivered.

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” That from Aveline. “Why is your Crow looking so worried?”

“The templar that told me to kill the First Enchanter? Who informed me that the only good mage is a dead mage?” Eavan murmured. “Interesting. I wonder why the Gallows would want such a man...I must have words with the Kinloch’s Knight-Commander. He should have been assigned someplace...quiet…”

“Now Dove, we do not know the circumstances here. You may not gut him, no matter how much you wish,” Zevran gathered her to him.

“He wanted me to kill innocents, Zevran. That Shem,” the word was spit, “Would have had me kill children.”

“I know my Dove, shh. Let go of the past. Shianni…”

“Is dead, Zevran. She’s dead. And even her ghost tells me to let it lie,” Eavan sighed. “ I have a feeling Cullen will be...unhappy...to see me. I may have stomped on his mage-killing parade. Though torture does things to a person. Makes you...unwilling to see past the hate roiling in your stomach.” Her words were spoken with a hint of regret, a whisper of understanding.

“Not much of a templar fan?” Hazarded Varric, eyes taking in the scene.

“No elf who lives in an alienage is. Shem in armor coming in, stealing children, taking them away to be locked up…” Eavan’s eyes grew cold. “We were lied to. Told they went to a better place, someplace where they were cared for and taught. But I saw the Circle. I saw the dungeons,” her eyes cut to Anders. “I saw and knew they had lied. Like Shem do. The Circle is nothing more than an alienage for mages.”

Fenris opened his mouth and her eyes swung to him, “Don’t be so fast to condemn a mage to the Circle. These aren’t Tevinter magisters locked in that tower. These are children...bound for life to live watched constantly by shem whose one job is to strike them down. No, I am no templar lover. I am no chantry lover,” her eyes swung to Sebastian, her eyes raking over the belt of Andraste that he wore. “I’ve looked into the face of an Old God. Do not speak to me of the Maker and his supposed teachings. There is more of man’s hubris in the Chant than the Divine.”

***

Drinking was suspended shortly after Eavan’s words. Sebastian had sputtered and been silenced by the fury raging in the Warden Commander’s eyes. It had taken Zevran a while to calm her, to bring her back from her fury. During that, Fenris watched her rage, understanding in his eyes. He knew what that feeling was like, the unending fire burned into a soul, kindled by memories of loss. Eavan calmed and then said everybody should get some rest. It was apparent that she meant herself, her eyes pained and dark. Nobody could argue that rest would be a bad idea.

 

Outside, the night winds were bitterly cold and Anders was glad for his leathers and Pounce curled up around his neck. He and Fenris led a small group of wardens to their home: Eavan and Zevran, Oghren, Velanna, Nathaniel and Sigrun, and the new healer, Twyla. Twyla, surpringling, was walking with Velanna - the two of them whispering quietly while holding hands. Anders had blinked but kept his mouth shut.

He really didn’t fancy trees coming alive and chasing him down.

Fenris was speaking as they walked, “We have three bedrooms upstairs that are in good shape...you did keep the bed in your workroom, correct mage?”

“Mm, What? Yes. It was just that chest of drawers I broke,” Anders murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “And a sitting room on the first floor that has a very comfortable couch. I know. I’ve slept on it a few times.”

Fenris let out a chuckle, “Mage, you are ridiculous.”

“Why do you call him that? Mage? I thought you two were lovers,” Velanna was squinting at Fenris.

Anders giggled a little as Fenris turned to look at Velanna, “He is my mage, that is why. He knows that it is a term of endearment. That each time I call him mage it is to remind him that he is mine and mine alone.”

Zevran hummed quietly while Velanna turned nearly purple, “You...you do not own him.”

“He is not my slave, this is true. I did not purchase him. He is not an object, to be discarded at will. But he is mine and it would do you well to remember it. I swore that I would never leave his side. I am his as much as he is mine,” The words were spoken gently and were accompanied by the elf taking Anders’ hand.

“Silly elf,” whispered Anders. “You know I am yours.”

“Mage,” The word clearly meant love, and was spoken reverently. “We should be home, not wallowing in the streets. We shall bathe and then rest. Not write. Not clean. Rest.”

“But...Fen…” Anders whined, quieting at the look he was given.

Behind them, the wardens exchanged looks. It was clear that this was a side of Anders they had never seen. They were used to flirty, to jokes, to teasing and chatter. This Anders was more quiet, more reserved...and seemed to cling to Fenris with a devotion none of the wardens, save perhaps Eavan, had ever seen.

“It means love to them,” Eavan finally said. “Much like how Zevran calls me Dove. Do not take it as a slur, Velanna.”

Twyla spoke up quietly, “It’s kinda cute.”

That made Velanna gaze at the little human with some amusement, “You are the cute one, shem.”

“Oh see...it’s not ok for Fenris to call me mage, but you can call her shem in that tone of voice? Which is...weird...so very weird.” Anders moved a little closer to Fenris - just in case.

Velanna tilted her head and then smiled slowly, “Ah. It started out as a bit of a slur. And gradually…”

“Do you call her your shem?” Fenris’ voice was dry.

Twyla burst into giggles, Velanna blushing. Anders just grinned and squeezed Fenris’ hand. Nathanial could be heard muttering from the back for the group “Am I the only one who doesn’t call his lover a slur affectionately?”

The entire group was laughing when they reached the mansion, even Fenris laughing softly at the absurdity of the entire conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eavan visits the Clinic - and let's slip about blood magic and the wardens...
> 
> Then - a trip to the Gallows...
> 
> And Hawke's Intuition sits up and takes note...

“This is quite the setup,” Eavan was looking around Anders’ clinic with respect and admiration on her face. “You take in the poor, save lives...do it all here in this little ramshackled room?”

Anders shifted and rubbed at the back of his neck, smoothing his hair, “Ah, yes. I know it’s not much…”

“Well, the Vigil’s clinic hasn’t looked this organized since you left but this...I see how little you have to work with and yet it’s all tidy and well-organized, obviously well-run.” Eavan offered him a half-smile. “How many refugees do you treat?”

“All of them it seems,” Anders exhaled.

“Any Blight sickness?” Eavan smiled at Zevran as he prowled around the room.

The rest of her inner circle was either looking around or leaning against the wall nearest the doors. She had only brought her oldest wardens. The younger ones were off shopping or relaxing - and hopefully staying out of trouble. That left her with the wardens least likely to cause a fuss at the Gallows. She quirked an eyebrow when she spied Oghren poking through Anders’ salves looking for minty balm for something she truly didn’t want to know about.

“Only a few and I handled it quickly and quietly,” Anders dropped his arms and sighed, smiling and perking up a bit when Fenris slid an arm around his waist and led him to a cot to sit. “The worst was a young boy. I’ll never forget it. He was half-ghoul by the time I got to him and...it was terrible.”

“It always is,” Eavan murmured.

“Well look at the crowd,” Hawke’s voice preceded her into the clinic. “Morning all. Sleep well? The broody elf didn’t keep you awake did he?”

“Hawke,” Fenris warned.

“Oh pish. Quiet. Izzy and I thought we pop down, go with you all to the Gallows. Oh...and Varric is coming as well.” She moved out of the way of Isabela and Varric, walking across the clinic to drop a kiss on Anders’ nose. “You look smashing today, as always, Anders.”

“Yeah Blondie, that color suits you fine,” Varric nodded at Eavan and leaned against the wall next to Nathaniel. “I’m surprised Fenris let you out looking like that.”

Anders was in one of his winter robes, the color a deep russet. The warmer cloth and long sleeves hid more. There was no slit up the sides, the fabric instead draping in a long skirt that brushed the tops of his black leather boots. A midnight black corset cinched in the center and gave the entire outfit structure. The wardens hadn’t quite known what to think and the only one who had said anything was Fenris...and that had only been a sigh.

“Fran expects me to wear my clothes, Varric.” was all Anders said, patting at his corset. “I’ll change before I heal so I don’t muss the cloth.”

“Mage,” Fenris’ voice was filled with exasperation, “You plan on healing today?”

“I hope so,” Twyla spoke up, a shy little smile on her face, “I’d love to help.”

“I approve, Twyla. Good call.” Eavan nodded her head approvingly. “We conscripted Twyla from Kinloch last year. She had been an apostate and member of the Mage Collective till the templars picked her up. Luckily, one of my contacts told me what had happened and we nabbed her. Excellent choice too, she’s well on her way to being a talented healer.”

“Commander, please,” Twyla flushed. “You gave me my options and healing suited me best.”

“Gave her options?” Fenris leaned forward. “A Mage Collective?”

“Mm, yes. Ferelden has a self-policing mage community. Oh, the templars still show up to wrangle away apostates, but usually the collective can avoid them. As for Twyla’s options, Velanna has several mages learning her brand of magic, we have a few healers, some who specialize in more offensive spells, our defensive casters, and the blood mages under Avernus.” Eavan watched with interest as Fenris stiffened. “Yes, that’s usually the response I get at first as well.”

“You condone blood magic?” Fenris was looking outraged. “You...Mage...you wish me to return to this Vigil with you where there are blood mages?”

“Well, we only have a handful of them and none at the Vigil. We don’t condone summoning anything...that’s forbidden.” For a moment, Eavan wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Not after what we had to clean up. No, the few mages I have who specialize in the blood arts use them to augment the taint in our bodies and are looking for a cure to the Calling. They are all housed at Soldier’s Peak with a select few of my wardens who did templar training minus the entire lyrium addiction. They’re sworn to me, not the Chantry, and they’re only around in case a spell goes hinky and we have another demon issue. No, we don’t possess people, we don’t summon demons, and we take our precautions seriously. I told them if they get blood-happy I’ll put them down myself. But...curing the Calling...it’s worth the risk. They know the costs.”

Anders blinked, “You’re trying to cure it?”

“Avernus has lived for over two hundred years. He keeps telling me that this year will be his last and then just keeps right on ticking. Maker knows what that man did to himself when he sundered the veil but whatever it was, he’s right about one thing. It’s in our blood. That’s why, well...let’s not discuss all of our warden secrets right now,” Eavan pursed her lips.

“Anything interesting happen while I’ve been here healing and avoiding templars?” Anders slowly wrapped an arm around Fenris, worried that his lover was about to go off on a tirant. The elf glanced up at him and gave a weak smile.

“We had a visit by the Qunari,” Eavan swung her eyes to meet Hawke’s. “I know you all had your fun with them a few years ago.”

“Maker, what did they want with you?” Hawke nabbed Isabela’s hand and squeezed.

“Dworkin, that lyrium-addled nugshit created something close to their gaatlock. That’s what we used down in the Deep Roads,” Eavan gave a soft chuckle. “We blew up an old ship in the harbor to try it out. Sunk that bastard like a dream. One of their Ben-Hassraths came to see us, as a courtesy from the Arishok.”

“I killed the Arishok,” Hawke said, preening a bit. “Single-hand combat.”

“Yeah, you killed the old Arishok. The new one? You may have had trouble with him. I know him pretty well in fact.” Eavan grinned when Zevran gave a laugh and Oghren started marching in a circle. “Yeah yeah, Sten was the best goddamn non-warden we had. Other than you Oghren.”

“Damn straight,” Oghren said. “That man could march. And fight.”

“Mm, So I was handling my duties as Arlessa that day. Had a line of locals out the door with problems. Somebody stole my cow type deals. And in walks this giant horned man carrying a box and saying to call him Hissrad and could he see that exploding powder we used in the harbor. I opened the box and found a note and some cookies,” Eavan’s lips twitched in amusement. “Good cookies.”

Zevran full on laughing now, hands wrapped around his middle, “Ah Dove, Sten was a taciturn wretch and then he discovered baked goods.”

“He had quite the sweet tooth. I wonder if he has all his bakers in Par Vollen doing cookies now instead of bread. The mental image is...well…” Eavan shook her head and chuckled to herself. “It was from the Arishok - Kadan, word has reached us that you have discovered gaatlock. Please put to rest the rumors. Arishok. He didn’t even have to spell it out. I knew who he was from the Kadan. So we take this Hissrad out to the harbor, find a sad excuse for a rowboat, and light her up. Hissrad watches the explosion, gets this little look on his face, and says “Close, Kadan, but not quite it.””

Oghren had found a jar of something and was rubbing it down his pants...grinning at Eavan while seemingly fondling himself - “Tell him what ya gave that Hiss...what’serface.”

Eavan didn’t comment on Oghren’s disgusting display except to shake her head and ask, “Oghren, what have you been drinking now? Certainly not that mushroom swill you brew down in the Deep Roads.”

“May have grabbed a bad mushroom, Commander,” He grunted, pulling his hand back out of his pants. “Hey Sparklefingers. Where do you want the jar? I used it all.”

“Er…” Anders gazed with some concern at the jar held in one still-gooey hand. “On the table. I’ll...sterilize it. With fire.”

“Tell em what ya sent the Arishok,” Oghren demanded as he plunked the jar down and then rubbed the rest of the goop into his beard.

“A stuffed kitten,” Eavan grinned.

“You sent the Arishok a stuffed cat?” Hawke had one eyebrow raised. “And you’re still alive?”

“Mm, Sten liked cookies and kittens.” Eavan chuckled. “The look on Hissrad’s face was priceless. Priceless. Ah well, if everybody is ready I’d like to see the Gallows. And then let my fine healers do what they do best.” She hopped from her seat and gave Fenris an appraising look. “And while your healer does what he does best, you are going to show me what you do best.”

“I will attempt to not injure your Commander,” Fenris said with a slight smirk.

“I’ll attempt to not slice the tips of your ears off,” Eavan grinned.

“Money’s on the Commander. You got them sparkly tattoos there but the Commander…” Oghren was puffing himself up to gloat, stopping when Eavan raised an eyebrow. “Er, I’ll let her show you.”

“As it should be. Zevran, you’ll stay with the healers. Nathaniel, you and Sigrun will shop for dinner. Velanna - you are free to stay in the clinic or come with me. Your choice.” Eavan patted Ogrhen on his head. “And you my dear friend will come make sure I don’t slice up Anders’ pretty elf.”

“Did she just call me your pretty elf?” Fenris was clenching his fists and doing a fine impression of a fish.

“Come on Wardens, we have an old friend to visit,” Eavan ignored Fenris’ outrage and flitted from the clinic.

Fenris gaped at Anders who simply leaned forward to press a kiss to his bottom lip, “You’re my favorite elf.”

“Well,” Fenris groused, hopping up with Anders and nabbing his hand. “I’ll try to not embarrass her too much. Pretty elf indeed.” He groused all the way to the lifts.

***

“So this is where the Shem lock up their mages?” Velanna spit as the ferry docked. “Weak-willed Shem afraid of their own shadows.”

“Say Shem one more time, I don’t think the entire courtyard heard you,” Anders muttered.

“Anders, you will stay at my side. No wandering off,” Fenris fussed, brushing his hand over Anders’ shoulders before taking his hand. “I shall do the talking.”

Hawke gave a chuckle and strode into the courtyard, splaying her arms wide and twirling, “Welcome to the Gallows. Home of Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi and one stick in the mud…”

“Champion, to what do we owe the pleasure?” A templar had jogged up, helmet in his hands. Hawke stopped twirling and looked at the templar and then back to the group.

“I revise my statement. Home to two sticks in the mud,” She waggled her eyebrows at Izzy and then offered the templar a bow. “Knight-Captain Cullen, always a grand delight.”

“Champion, please. There’s no need for a scene and you brought quite the crowd today. I hope you aren’t looking to bother the Knight-Commander,” Cullen frowned slightly. “She has been very put out with you.”

“Yes well,” Hawke tried to think of some diplomatic response and shrugged, “She can bite my apostate ass.”

The Knight-Captain’s face was purpling when Eavan pushed her way to the front. She made a formidable figure - dressed in dragonhide armor and wearing the mantle of Warden Commander. At her back stood her wardens, all outfitted in their gear. “Knight-Captain Cullen. Long time no see.” She watched with great interest as the purple faded into pallor. “I see you remember me.”

“Warden...I mean the Hero...you aren’t here to conscript are you?” Cullen was looking around nervously, tugging at the collar to this templar robes. “Or...why are you here?”

“Had a warden thing near Kirkwall and am visiting one of my senior wardens. Heard he was having problems with the templar types,” Eavan tapped her foot and tilted her head. “You would never think to bother one of my wardens, would you Ser Cullen?”

“Ah...a warden? In Kirkwall? I didn’t...we had no idea…” Cullen let his eyes dance over the group, landing on Anders and he paled further. “Oh...no…”

Anders watched with great interest as Eavan strode up to Knight-Captain Cullen. She only reached to his chest, which did not deter her in the slightest. One hand reached up and pulled him down by the neck of his breastplate so that they were eye-to-eye, “I will say this once. And unless you wish a diplomatic incident of the likes the Free Marches as never seen, you will pass my words on to your Blighted Knight-Commander. Warden Anders is mine. Mine. Not yours, not hers, not the Chantry’s. You touch him, you so much as lay a finger on him, and I will find a way to conscript your entire Maker-Damn Circle. Do you understand me? I don’t know how your ass ended up as a Knight-Captain, not after the shit you pulled in Ferelden, but by the teats of every broodmother I’ve set on fire I will flay the skin from your body myself if this man comes to harm.”

Hawke turned to Varric and mouthed “wow” silently.

“My Dove, you are...you are choking the Knight-Captain. Hello Cullen, it has been some years, yes? Surely you remember me? The little Crow that our Dove here caught? Yes? We do not wish any unpleasantness. You do understand that the Warden Commander is very overworked,” Zevran kept up a running commentary while slowly prying Eavan’s fingers from Cullen’s breastplate.

“I...but he’s the Darktown Healer. We had no idea. He’s been here for years…” Cullen straightened up. “We heard he ran - as he was prone to do.”

“He has been working for me. Culling the refugees of those with the Blight sickness,” Eavan arched an eyebrow. “He should have checked in, to be sure, and he will be properly disciplined for this lapse, but you must understand his history with templars and the circle isn’t a happy one.”

“And you must understand my history with mages,” Cullen said stiffly, sagging at her raised eyebrow. “I know that you were there...Maker’s Breath, I know I owe you my life. Eavan, I know how I was when you saw me last and I swear I am not that man anymore.”

“Still a templar. Still in shiny plate,” Eavan knocked a fist against his breastplate. “How many robes have you killed recently? How many have you made tranquil?” Cullen remained quiet, eyes averted. “This is your only warning. I’d pass it on to the Chantry but we’ve heard rumors of the unrest here and the Chantry’s unwillingness to actually do anything about it.”

“Blighted...rumors?” Cullen glanced around, worried at his lower lip, and then leaned forward to speak quietly, “It’s worse than rumors, Warden Commander. Something’s wrong with the Knight-Commander. I may not trust the mages but she’s...I fear that we have left behind the Maker’s teachings. If this mage is truly one of yours, you would do well to put him on a ship to Highever and leave Kirkwall. Something is going on with the Knight-Commander, Eavan. And I fear that this is going to lead us down the path of war.”

Eavan rocked on her heels as she took in Cullen and then nodded, “Maybe you have changed then. I’ll take your words under advisement, Knight-Captain.” She glanced around at the tower and courtyard and shook her head. “I’ve seen enough. Wardens? Back to the main dock. Cullen, thank you for your time.” She stepped back and gave the Knight-Captain a terse nod.

Anders waited for Eavan to be looking away and stuck his tongue out at Cullen, who narrowed his eyes and pointed. They were in mid-staring contest when Fenris smacked the back of Anders’ head and dragged him off - nagging the entire way to the ferry about antagonizing the Circle.

Hawke and Varric shared a look. “Do you get the feeling that the Warden Commander is planning something?” Hawke asked as her, Isabela, and Varric meandered after the group. “Something to do with Anders and Justice?”

“Now Hawke, you’re the one with wardens living in your home. I have nothing to snoop,” Varric hummed thoughtfully.

“They have more of that powder,” Isabela whispered. “I think she’s planning something.”

Hawke tapped her chin and then looked back at the Gallows. “The question is, how upset will I be with their plans…” She looked up and caught Anders’ gaze. He offered her a pained smile and she sighed. “You and I both know that whatever happens, we’re on his side.”

“Sweet thing, I know you. You don’t leave any of us behind,” Isabela wrapped her arms around Hawke as they settled on the ferry.

“You all are my family,” Hawke said simply. “No matter what that Warden Commander thinks, Anders is much mine as hers. Maybe it’s time you outfitted that ship of yours we got from Castillon. I have a nasty feeling we’ll need something. Call it...intuition.”

“Hawke, when your intuition sits up, we all end up covered in nugshit,” Varric groused. “I hate ships.”

“Well, then say a few prayers that it won’t be needed,” Hawke responded. She let her eyes turn towards Kirkwall proper, finding the Chantry soaring above the city. Her heart clenched as she thought about the tensions tightening in the city. One flame, she thought as the ferry slowly drew up to the dock, it would only take the tiniest of sparks to set this entire city ablaze.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders tells Fenris about his plans...
> 
> Eavan shocks them both...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have to write the end of Act 3 then by the Maker I will write it how I want to. ::laughs::

Fenris had just reached the top of the stairs when he heard angry cat growling and a loud “ouch!” Sighing, he moved swiftly down the hall towards his room, slowing as he heard talking. 

“Pounce, this is Bun...your new, um...sister. Yes. Your sister,” Anders’ voice filtered from their bedroom. “Now Bun, don’t be like that. Pounce is an old man at this point. He can’t...or...he can...Pounce. No...Pounce!”

The sounds of growling started overtaking Anders’ voice and Fenris quickly moved through the bedroom door to find two angry, fluffed-out cats on the bed and one mage with scratch marks on his arms. Fenris did the first thing that came to mind - he activated his brands and growled low and loud.

Both cats took one look at Fenris and stopped growling. In fact, both put their ears back and lay flat on the bed. Anders exhaled and took the opportunity to pet both cats. “There there, he doesn’t mean it.”

“I most certainly do. This is my house. You two will behave or you will have to live with Hawke and her mabari,” Fenris hissed the words. Bun and Pounce shared a look, jumped off the bed, and stalked from the room as if they had just been insulted.

“I...can’t believe that worked,” Anders slid to the ground and glanced at his arms. Both were covered in scratch marks. “They were just establishing dominance and who would get to sleep on my chest.”

Fenris snorted and stopped glowing. “I am not surprised. What made you decide to introduce them now?”

“I’m just…” Anders let his healing magic wash over his arms and sighed. “Eavan wants to talk about something. I think it’s about Justice’s...goals.”

Fenris watched as the mage fidgeted, whiskey eyes looking at everything but him. He moved across the room and crouched down and nabbing Anders’ chin. “Anders, tell me.”

“You’re going to be mad,” Anders licked his lips and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to ruin this but...I never should have agreed to return to you...”

“Mage,” Fenris’ voice grew firm. “Tell me, now.”

“I’ve been researching a...a potion of sorts. To, um, solve this...problem with the Chantry…” Anders tried to pull back and found himself unable to do much more than lean against the side of the bed. “My plan, our plan, was to...plant the potion in the Chantry.”

There was silence in the room. Anders held his breath and waited for the inevitable yelling - or for the bright glare of blue and then his heart be ripped out. Fenris would never...there was no way he would forgive Anders for this.

“What, exactly, does this potion do?” The words were measured.

“Boom,” Anders whispered.

More silence followed by a sharp exhale. “You are telling me that your solution is to destroy the Chantry? And do you, honestly, think Eavan is going to go along with this fool plan of yours?”

“I’m rather hoping to ensure it goes off without a hitch,” The Warden Commander’s voice answered Fenris. “With less total destruction and more...finesse, shall we say?”

“Commander, Eavan, I...you can’t. I should...Fenris please, I’ll just pack and go. I’ll go...and you can…” Anders was floundering, eyes wide.

“Peace, Anders. Peace.” Eavan settled herself on the floor near them and gave a slight smile. “Your elf is quite the fighter, by the way. We ended up in a draw of sorts.”

“She had her knife pressed to my kidneys and I had a glowing hand pressed to her chest,” Fenris watched as Anders opened his mouth and closed it, the mage’s eyes sweeping both of them from head to toe looking for injuries. “We are fine.”

“I can use somebody like him to train my men. Ruthless, cunning, quick...he understands the stakes. Sadly, a lot of my wardens come to me soft. They do not understand how the darkspawn operate.” Eavan pulled her knees to her chest. “I will not send them to their deaths untrained.”

“Her offer has merit,” Fenris admitted. “And comes with certain...benefits.”

Eavan’s lips twitched at that. “I can’t give you a mansion but...with Anders in the Wardens you would be eligible for rooms in the Keep. Or, if you prefer, a small home in the village. Being in the Keep means access to the kitchens, the baths, the armory...the wine cellar…”

“I wouldn’t be in the barracks?” Anders blinked at Eavan. 

“Naw, Senior Wardens have some privileges. I have a lovely room near the infirmary. We have been allowing those from the surrounding lands to come and be healed so it’s always hopping. Of course, that leaves the refugees here in a bind.” Eavan pondered that. “Anybody you know can take over?”

“My, ah, assistants. One is a mage who has been studying with me. I don’t like him to practice when I’m not there.” Anders was plucking at his robe, eyes filled with disbelief.

“You don’t want him caught,” Eavan surmised. “Well, I hope he’s up for the challenge. Though we can send him aid, I am sure. In fact, I’ll do one better and have official aid be sent from Denerim. All nice and political. I should look at conscripting the poor fellow - give him some breathing room. Yes. I like this idea. I can’t leave you here, or Twyla...Velanna would have my ear tips. But...yes.”

“You want to make Eldon a Grey Warden?” Anders tried sliding away from Fenris and found himself with a lap full of elf. “Fenris…”

“You are not running from me, Anders,” Fenris took a moment to settle himself and frown at Eavan’s laugh. “And why are you not more upset with him?”

“The only thing Anders did to piss me off was lie to me,” Eavan gave Anders a stern look. “I was never his jailor. I conscripted him to save him. That templar, Rylock, obviously had it out for him. The man had been locked up and he still helped me. He could have run at any time - but he stayed and helped, healed up those he could, and still managed to tell jokes.”

“I’m not that heartless. I’m not going to run off and leave a bunch of injured…” Anders quieted at Fenris’ look. 

“As I said, his conscription was to save him - though being a Grey Warden is no easy life. I cannot promise your Eldon a happy life, Anders. I cannot promise him a long life, children, love...but I can promise him safety and backing and a home. That’s more than most have.” Eavan gave a wry smile. “As to your other problem...well, I think there can be some unofficial help. I was looking at my maps and this entire area is riddled with tunnels to the Deep Roads. It’s amazing you all haven’t woken up covered in spawn.”

“We knew it was filled with Tevinter ruins. But really, the Deep Roads?” Anders rubbed at his head. “That could explain why my dreams were so vivid.”

“Oh no, that’s just being a warden. Short life span, nasty drink to join, incredible stamina...really vivid dreams of death and darkspawn. We have the life, right?” The little elf chuckled. “At any rate, I have a plan - if you care to hear it.”

Fenris glanced between the two. “You are ok with destroying the Chantry?”

“Can’t destroy the Gallows. The mages are in there,” Eavan said simply. “I’d say the Viscount Keep but you all don’t have a Viscount, do you. You do, however, have a very large symbol of oppression just sitting there doing nothing to solve this mess.”

Fenris stared at her with a flat look, “You would kill the Grand Cleric and all of her followers?”

“What? No. There are ways to do this.” Eavan relaxed her legs and leaned back on her hands. “An official delegation, Warden seals, horrible infestation of darkspawn, blah blah blah,” she waved her hand. “We’ve been sealing off tunnels left and right. It would be easy to say the red lyrium has moved into the city or there’s a darkspawn horde headed this way or something and we need to evacuate the Chantry to make sure it is safe.”

Anders opened his mouth again and then closed it, shaking his head as if arguing with himself. When his eyes re-opened, they were glowing blue. “SHE SHOULD DIE.”

“Death is not justice. Her life is worth nothing.” Eavan gave a wry smile. “The building, though. It’s the prize. Take that away and you have an ineffectual leader. Orlais will sit up and take notice of that. I have to wonder what your Knight Commander’s thoughts will be. She will tear the city apart. Cullen says she has been acting strangely and I have to wonder what he means by that. So much the better if she makes a move. An ineffectual Chantry leader in charge of a paranoid Knight Commander...a nightmare for Divine.”

“You are really going to do this,” Fenris was goggling at Eavan.

“What? I’ve stopped a civil war. I suppose it’s time I start a revolution,. I would do it for the elves if I could.” Her smile was sad. “Fenris, nobody ever stopped to ask me what I wanted when the Blight started. Nobody came to me and asked if I wanted this life. I was to be married. It was my wedding day when the Arls’ men took me and my friends. My wedding day when he killed my betrothed and...he…” her eyes closed.

“You do not…” 

“When Shianni, my cousin, was brutalized by Shem. Where was the Maker that day, Fenris? Where was he when we were at Ostagar and the Shem decided to turn his back on those on the field - not for glory but for some sort of twisted power play? Where was he when that same Shem tried to sell my people into slavery?” Eavan was vibrating. “I never asked for this life. I never asked to be put in charge, to be given power...to save a nation, to put kings onto thrones...but here we are. I look back at what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, and I see no divine hand. We’re talking about a building here - not a god.”

“Eavan,” Anders’ voice was gentle, Justice having retreated, “I don’t want you tied up in this.”

“Officially, I won’t be. There will be some poking around, some official looking work, but in the end - you will have to take the brunt of the public anger. And for that, I am sorry. It is your sacrifice, Anders. Your mission.” Eavan stood, brushing off her pants. “I can give you the ability to reach your goal with minimal loss of innocent life...as innocent as this city is at the least. But the payment is your reputation.”

“I figured the payment would be my life,” Anders admitted, feeling Fenris stiffen. “I had assumed that Hawke or Fenris would...they would never have allowed…”

“You will, of course, share this information with Hawke. This is her city, she must be told. As for your life, well, it is mine. And as such, I will take you back to Vigil. You will atone by healing and being a Grey Warden,” Eavan scrunched up her nose. “A few trips to the Deep Roads should do it.”

“I think I may prefer death?” Anders offered, quieting when Fenris growled.

“I believe your elf has other ideas. I shall leave you two to talk. I must prepare, at any rate. Rumor has it the King will be visiting, or so Zevran’s network of spies tells us. If that’s true, well...Alistair will need finessing. I’ll handle it.” She nodded to Fenris. “Speak to your lover, Fenris. And try to not kill him, though if you feel the need for discipline, well...he is a healer. Just don’t do any permanent damage.”

“Thanks Eavan,” Anders’ voice was dry, turning mildly concerned at the spark in Fenris’ eyes. “Maybe don’t leave me alone?”

“Oh Anders,” Eavan laughed as she walked from the door. “He loves you too much.”

Anders returned to plucking at his robe, eyes down. Tilting his head, eyes taking in the pale skin and worried fidgeting, Fenris finally sighed. “Mage, you are very trying.”

“I know,” Anders whispered.

“You are asking me to condone a war to free mages,” Fenris growled a little.

“I know,” that whisper again.

“To support an uprising against the Chantry,” Fenris watched Anders’ head bob. “To allow you to damage a portion of the city, uproot us, and make us wanted criminals.”

“I’m sorry,” Anders sighed. “I should never have allowed myself to...never allowed us to…”

“Shut up,” Fenris leaned forward to press his forehead against the mage’s. “I am mad at you.”

“I can pack…” Anders started again.

“You never can follow directions,” Fenris sighed, pressing his lips against the mage’s in a soft, gentle kiss. He stroked fingers over Anders’ cheek, letting his thoughts settle. This mage was constantly pushing him in his thoughts on magic. What he wanted to do - what his spirit was wanting to do - was at the very edge of Fenris’ ability to handle. 

Thoughts of those talks from the beginning of their relationship pulled to the fore of his memory - talks of Anders’ time in the Circle, of his time in the Wardens...the mage’s constant attempts to write to those in power - letters ignored or returned. And of course, the long swath of the mage’s back - the scars left there that told their own story.

“I do not agree that mages can handle full freedom,” Fenris started, watching sadness fill Anders’ face, “But I agree that the current situation cannot stand. I will not leave you, mage. Nor will I allow your death.”

“Fenris,” Anders gasped.

“I love you, Anders. All of you. I would spend what life we have together.” His lips twitched slightly. “Your Commander, she is willing to stand with you on this. I will not allow her to best me here as well.”

Anders gave a gasping sob and folded around Fenris, clinging to him. Shoulders shaking, he buried his face in Fenris’ hair and keened softly. He had expected the elf to leave him. He had been prepared to pack and take himself back to Darktown, to wait for Eavan to pull him from the sewers and press him back into the life of a Warden. He had expected to tell her to sod off and continue on alone - down a path that he thought would, should lead to his death by either Hawke or the man he loved. Instead, Fenris was there with him, holding him and promising to stay with him and it was...overwhelming.

He had never had support like this before. He had never have a lover stay...and Fenris had stayed. Was staying. It was enough to make him sob against the elf and cling, sobs that turned into hiccuping laughs as giddy happiness filled him.

“Fool mage,” Fenris whispered as he held his hysterical lover. “To think i would leave you.”

“I love you,” Anders gasped. “I love you and I am so sorry.”

“Yes well...you can express how sorry you are by coming with me to the bath. You are over-emotional and dirty from work. We shall bathe and eat and then I shall remind you just how much you belong to me.” Fenris cupped Anders cheek and gave a half-smile. “Perhaps I will enjoy this Vigil. It would be nice to move on, to settle where the memories of where I come from aren’t so...strong. I will miss Hawke and our friends, but I look forward to life around those who know me as nothing more than a strong warrior.”

“And my lover,” Anders said proudly.

“Yes,” Fenris stood and pulled Anders up. “Now...to the bath with you. You have caused enough emotional turmoil for one night, I think.” 

Anders gave a wry smile and headed into the bathing chamber to draw water to heat. Fenris watched him go and wondered at himself - at his acceptance, his willingness to move, and how much life seemed different since he was truly free and truly able to make his own decisions.

Eavan, he decided finally as he started to the bathing chamber, was freeing him as much as she was helping Anders. And that, more than anything, made him willing to work with her on this fool plan.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story of the famous "Anders' punching a dark spawn"
> 
> The Kirkwall group finds out what's being planned...

“This is really good,” Sigrun said, again, as she shoved another sausage into her mouth. “You cooked all of this? This is really good.”

“I did! Fenris doesn’t really cook,” Anders beamed at the dwarf, ignoring the narrowed eyes of his lover. “He can drink wine like a champ, though.”

“Sissy drink,” Oghren belched, shoving half a loaf of bread into his mouth. “Let me get you a cup of my special brew.”

“Not at breakfast,” Eavan responded mildly. “You know Anders, we wouldn’t say no to you cooking for Officers’ Meetings.”

“Am I an Officer?” Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Mm, Senior Warden Anders, are you looking for a promotion? I have to say, you’ll need more Deep Roads under your belt before I grant you one,” Eavan watched Anders make a face and chuckled. “What? No more punching hurlocks?”

“The mage punched a hurlock? Oh, this I have to hear,” Fenris settled back in his chair - full, happy, and relaxed. He felt relaxed around these people - accepted and wanted. It was odd and pleasant.

“Oh come on, Eavan,” Anders whined. “Not that story again.”

“But it’s a good story! So there we were, down in the Deep Roads. The Architect, and this is not the time to talk about what he was, had lured us in to a trap and we had woken up practically naked in a jail cell. After we got free, thanks to Velanna’s sister, we started trying to find our way out. Only we had no weapons, no armor...no nothing.” Eavan glanced at Velanna who gave a sad sigh. “I know, Velanna. One day, we’ll find her.”

“I wish you could kill that Darkspawn Shem again,” Velanna whispered, clutching Twyla’s hand. “But continue, I enjoy this story.”

Anders’ scoffing was covered up by Eavan’s voice. “We were fighting through the tunnels, the mages behind us trying to cast spells without staves. Oghren here made an ill-timed comment about skirt-wearing damsels in distress and Anders took it personally.”

Oghren chuckled and shoved a sausage into his mouth. “Sparklefingers here gets all hot under the collar...er...smalls...and goes running up this hurlock, pulls back his arm to punch, and whiff...nothing but air.”

Fenris choked on his tea and glanced at Anders, who was trying to meld into his chair. “And he is still alive?”

“Eavan ran up and punched the hurlock and it went down, all proper like.” Oghren finished with a big grin. “And we’ve been laughing about it every since.” The table was filled with laughter and the sputters from Anders.

“I am much better at punching now, thank you very much. Justice is a great help. Want me to demonstrate?” Anders pushed back his chair and stopped when Hawke walked into the room.

“Now, now...reign it in you two. We have important business. Rumor has it that the King is on his way. Which puts us on a timetable. I need a couple of you to volunteer to head down into the Deep Roads and scout out the area under the Chantry. Get me details - tunnels, spawn sightings, stuff like that. Maps indicate an opening in one of the lower Darktown areas. Smash it open, get me the intel, and get back. We’ll seal up the hole when you’re done.” Eavan looked around the table for volunteers.

“Sigrun and I will go. We’ll be in and out before the spawn even sense us,” Nathaniel said with confidence.

“Good. Zevran, you keep doing what you’re doing. Keep me updated on Alistair’s progress. Anders, we’re going to go tell your friends what’s going on. Nobody stays in the dark on this one. Velanna, you and Twyla talk to Eldon in Anders’ clinic. Assess his abilities, tell me what you think. If we have to do a joining, I want to do it sooner rather than later.” Velanna nodded and tapped Twyla’s hand lightly.

“Fenris and I will go with you, Anders. Is there anybody we should be concerned with?” Eavan watched as Oghren raised his hand and she rolled her eyes. “You’re with me, Oghren. You always are.”

“Right Commander,” the dwarf beamed.

“I would not tell Aveline. She is Captain of the Guard. Nor would I tell Sebastian. He was a brother in the Chantry and does not look kindly on Anders,” Fenris said with some thought.

Hawke raised her eyebrow, “Did I interrupt breakfast or a war table?”

“How did you even get in here?” Anders asked, sighing when Isabela came sauntering in. “Oh…”

“Hey Handsome. We really need to get a better lock on that front door. Sweet thing, why are you looking so perturbed.” Isabela touched Hawke’s cheek.

“So, do we need to get Varric and Merrill together? And what could you all possibly have planned that would upset Aveline?” Hawke asked. Isabela cleared her throat and Hawke sighed, “Well, I know any plan of Anders’ would probably upset Chantry Boy.”

“Ah...can we only tell this once? Please?” Anders tugged at his hair.

“Hawke’s or Hanged Man?” Eavan stood, the wardens following suit. The table was cleared while Eavan stared at Hawke.

“Hanged Man. Izzy, go get Merrill. Meet us there?” Hawke turned and pressed her lips to Isabela’s, the pirate sighing and leaning closer before pulling away reluctantly. “I love you.”

“Oh sweet thing,” Isabela gave a laugh. “I will show you how much you mean to me later.” She winked at Eavan and skipped from the room.

“Closer,” Anders remarked. “She almost said it that time.”

“She’s more affectionate since the entire Orlais trip. You and Fenris were quite the inspiration. But...let’s not change the subject. If you think you can leave your dishes, I say we head right over to the Hanged Man,” Hawke said briskly. “I knew something was up. Had that feeling. Like right before the Qunari went beserk.”

Anders sighed and hung his head, allowing Fenris to take his hand. Eavan shook her head, “Come on. No moping. Let’s get this handled so we can finish the planning. The sooner everything is finished, the better. Once Alistair sees me I’ll be dragged back to Ferelden. That’s just how it works. Now...move it. All of you.”

“You heard the Commander. Besides, I could use a drink,” Oghren swaggered out. The rest looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.

***

“I’m sorry...say that again. Slower and with shorter sentences,” Varric was sweating.

“We’re going to rig charges under the Chantry and then send an official Warden Correspondence to Her Grace that we have discovered a Deep Roads breach that could threaten the entire city. We’re going to evacuate the Chantry for the foreseeable future. I can do that.” Eavan grinned. “We drag up a spawn corpse and nobody will question it. Nobody will want to deal with it. And there isn’t a Warden Outpost here to petition.”

“And the charges we saw you use?” Hawke was tapping the table.

“Placed under the chantry. Dworkin?” Eavan turned to the dwarf she had grabbed on the way to the Hanged Man. “Explain it.”

“The powder is similar to gaatlok. It does off and BOOM!” Dworkin threw up his hands. “The trick is to place the charges under the Chantry in set areas...they go off and collapse the bedrock. This entire city is held up with foundations and supports - old ones, brittle ones, pocked with age. The Chantry’s tall but the Deep Roads are there. We set the charges right and they’ll go off in a sequence that will drop the building down in the Deep Roads, sealing it up nice and tight. A nice big Chantry-sized plug. Collateral damage - minimal to Hightown - mainly falling masonry. Loss of life...couple hundred depending on population - more if we don’t set the charges right. Then it’ll topple and take out whole blocks. Maybe reach down into upper Lowtown. Doing it Sparklefingers’ way would cause fire to spread...my way, it’s contained underneath. No spread of fire, just debris and dust.”

“How do you set them off?” Isabela asked.

“That’s the beauty of it. Magical charge. It’s an enchantment,” Dworkin grinned at Hawke. “And you happen to have the most amazing enchanter at your home. “He’ll work it with Anders’ magic and when he casts the spell...well...boom. I bet he can enchant your walls to withstand the shock wave. You’d only lose your windows.”

“Sandal,” Hawke nodded. “I need to know, Anders. Are you sure? This will cause...Maker. A war. You’ll start a war with the Chantry.”

“Hawke...you know why I have to do this. You know what the stakes are. Meredith...she’s beyond unstable, sure. But it’s more than that. It’s the oppression of an entire people. IT IS THE SYSTEMATIC DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE GIFT BECAUSE OF FEAR. IT IS UNJUST.” Justice boomed from Anders. “AND WHEN THE LAST CIRCLE FALLS, WHEN THE MAGES RISE UP, WE WILL KNOW JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED. AND WE CAN TURN OUR GAZE NORTH.”

“Mage…” Fenris choked.

“WE WOULD SEE THE ELVES RESTORED AND TEVINTER IN RUIN. WE WILL SPREAD JUSTICE THROUGH THE LAND…” Justice found his face gripped by Eavan.

“You will return with me to Vigil’s Keep - not start a war with Tevinter. You will aid me in finding a cure for the Calling. You will fight for all living creatures by destroying the Dark Spawn. That will be your justice. That will be your goal,” Eavan said quietly, sternly.

“YES COMMANDER,” Justice nodded.

“Now, let Anders have his body back,” Eavan commanded. “He always was an opinionated spirit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. He is so...is so pleased. I am...I can’t. You…” Anders shook. “You would help me?”

“You fight for your beliefs,” Merrill said somberly. “I can understand it. It is the same drive I have with the Eluvian. I will stand with you, Lethallin.”

“You say you can do it without destroying the Hanged Man? I...I guess I’m in,” Varric sighed. “This will make an amazing story.”

Hawke glanced at Isabela who grinned, “Want to become pirates after this?”

“You know it,” Isabela laughed. “Let’s set some people free and then go liberate some booty.”

Fenris sighed, “I did not expect any less. We are with you. Commander, tell us what to do.”

Eavan looked around the table and grinned. “First step - Dworkin - you’re going to go say a few prayers and then get lost in the Chantry. I’ve got people scouting the Deep Roads. Hawke, keep me posted on what you hear from the Gallows. You’ll know to strike when your Knight Commander makes her move - and she will. They always do.”

Her eyes met Anders’. “You will remain with me. Prepare your belongings to be shipped to the Vigil. Once this is over, you and your elf belong to me.” She turned her gaze to Fenris. “Are you alright with that?”

Fenris smiled wryly, “It will be a first for me, an elven leader. And one who hates magisters so much. I can think of no better place to go than your Vigil. Promise me he will remain at my side and you will have my blade.”

“I swear it,” Eavan nodded. “Alright people. We have planning to do. Let’s get to it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans proceeding...
> 
> And a visit from the King!

The planning went quickly. Nathaniel and Sigrun found an old mining tunnel that opened into the Deep Roads. A little scouting and it quickly became apparent that it was only by the grace of the Maker that Kirkwall had not fallen to the dark spawn. The entire city sat over tunnels made by both dwarves and the dark spawn. The Chantry - up on Hightown - sat over a warren of old tunnels, some very shady looking foundations, and deeper - the broad avenues of the Deep Roads.

A little scouting by Dworkin showed that the Chantry’s basements went deep - and were filled with dungeons. Anders had ranted for fifteen minutes at that discovery - ranted and raved while Eavan wrote down what Dworkin said, lined up the maps, and started making notes.

Sandal came up with several enchantments - one designed to trigger when Anders cast a general release of magic and one that would fortify the mansion’s walls. Anders was informed that he should not, in any way, release large bursts of magic until he was ready to topple the Chantry. Hawke had been impressed and had had the new enchantments installed around the mansion. She offered some to Fenris - who declined. He didn’t own his mansion and they weren’t staying at any rate. If Danarius’ old mansion fell, well, he would rejoice.

Instead he and Anders packed and sent their belongings ahead. In fact, Eavan packed up her younger Wardens and sent them back to Vigil - with Bun and Pounce. Anders had sobbed - inconsolable even with the promise that both cats would be waiting for him in the infirmary. He had locked himself in his study for half the day, only emerging because Fenris took the door down and dragged him back to their bedroom and proceeded to hold him the rest of the night.

After much discussion, Fenris and Anders told Eavan of their decision to stay in Vigil’s Keep. Fenris had accepted the position as trainer and felt it would be best if he was close to the armory. Anders wanted to be near the Infirmary. Because of their status, they were granted two rooms. While they were losing the mansion, they were gaining a better, safer life. It was a gift neither could refuse. Eavan promised the rooms would be ready and Pounce and Bun waiting for them. Anders made her make the promise about the cats twice.

They planned, they worked, they packed...they spent time together drinking, playing wicked grace, telling stories. It was a busy and bittersweet time - one that had a definite ending.

And the first glimmer that the wait was up was Zevran handing a letter to Hawke, a grin on his face. She opened it and laughed. Simple, sweet, and to the point.

Champion,  
I’d love to meet with you. Come by the Keep today.  
Yours,  
King Alistair.

***

“I don’t know who you think you are, to march into my city and make demands,” Knight Commander Meredith was ramrod straight on the stairs leading to the old Viscount office.

“You know, people always seem to forget my title. I am King of Ferelden,” came the cheeky response.

“You have no authority here,” Meredith nearly hissed. “Your visit could be seen as a prelude to war.”

“Oddly enough, Knight Commander, you have no authority either. You are not Viscount and do not run the city. Your purview is the Circle, is it not? I find it interesting that you have taken it upon yourself to meet with me as if you are ruler here,” Alistair said thoughtfully.

“Well, you know how templar are,” a new voice rang across the room - followed by the march of boots. “Always willing to step into any role they feel they should.”

“How dare you…” Meredith started.

“Eavan!” Alistair lit up. “Come to save me again? Like old times, yes? Teagan, look, Eavan is here!” Alistair proceeded to ignore the irate Knight Commander in favor of sweeping down the stairs to gather up Eavan into a hug. “Oo...you wore the dragonbone armor. Nice, love.”

An older man, distinguished and handsome, gave a long-suffering sigh before following Alistair, “My Lady, you are looking ravishing as always.”

“What have I told you about flirting with her…” Alistair frowned.

“Teagan! Don’t call me My Lady, you know how I hate it. How are you?” Eavan threw herself at Teagan, who staggered and gave a laugh. “How is your wife?”

“Good, wonderful. Expecting again. If His Majesty here would just decide to go home…” Teagan gave another sigh.

“I hate sitting on the throne all boring like. Traveling is such fun. Though, Eavan, naughty that you are here too. I suppose that means we have to leave. And...oh...Zevran.” Alistair flushed a little. “Hello Zev...is anybody, oh...Oghren and...was this warden business?”

“Terrible thing that, Deep Roads delving. Found dark spawn in the Chantry…” Eavan watched the Knight Commander pale. “We’re dealing with it. I’m leaving a team here to properly close up the tunnels. I won’t need any of your useless templar.”

“And just who are you?” Meredith drew herself up.

“Oh! Knight Commander, allow me to introduce you to the Warden Commander and Hero of Ferelden, Arlessa Eavan Tabris,” Alistair gave a grin at the titles while Eavan looked constipated.

“Arlessa…” Meredith gave a distasteful frown. “Well, I trust our conversation was understood, your Majesty. I...must be going.” Meredith gave the entire group a frown and then stomped from the Keep.

They all watched her go, Anders melding back a bit behind Fenris just in case. But the Knight Commander never turned her head - simply marched from the doors, resolute. “She’s planning something,” he muttered.

“Mage,” Fenris warned.

“So...this is the Champion of Kirkwall?” Alistair had moved to Hawke who was in her official armor, the crest of Kirkwall emblazoned on her lightweight breastplate. “And a Ferelden. I could not be more pleased to meet you.”

“Your Majesty!” Hawke looked starstruck, falling to her knee. Alistair gave a panicked look and reached for her arm.

“Oh no...no. Alistair. Really, let’s not use all the official titles,” he begged. Eavan snickered. “And you, quiet. Or...Zevran and I will make plans.”

“Mm,” was all Eavan said in response. After an awkward moment, she chuckled. “So you got the Knight Commander all riled up.”

“That woman ambushed me!” Alistair whined. “And the proceeded to lecture. Like Wynne only worse.”

“He was smart-mouthed,” Teagan swallowed down a smile. “It was well-done, if undiplomatic. She has no legal standing, of course. And no recourse should the King of Ferelden wish to pursue action against her. Though, we have been antagonizing the Chantry rather much.”

“Eh,” Alistair waved his hand. “But think of how much better Ferelden is since I started kicking out the templar. Everybody is behaving, the lands are being rebuilt, the tower is demon-free…” Alistair gave Eavan a grin.

“You...you’re kicking out the templar?” Anders shuffled forward, eyes wide. Alistair turned to look at him, gawked a bit at the fancy robes, and then squinted.

“I know you,” He moved towards Anders, finding himself blocked by Fenris. “I know you...Warden.”

“Ah, I was the dangerous apostate conscripted….” Anders shuffled.

Alistair’s face lit up, “Right! Hey, funny thing how that Rylock just disappeared. And good riddance, am I right? She liked to lecture while we marched. So...you’re here...with Eavan?” There was uncertainty on his face.

“He is with me,” Fenris’s breastplate was nearly brushing Alistairs. He narrowed his eyes and growled.

“Fenris, that’s the King. Please don’t do anything…” Hawke hopped up and reached for her friend.

Alistair tilted his head at Fenris, glanced back to Anders, and then grinned - a sunny grin. “When’s the wedding?”

“What?” Fenris gawked.

“Seriously, this is romantic,” Alistair waved his hands. “Almost as romantic as wooing during a Blight.”

“We can’t...marry…” Anders shook his head. “Did you hit your head? Do you need me to check you?”

Alistair just laughed and turned to Eavan with a grin. “You didn’t tell people. Ah well, that can wait. Champion,” Alistair’s face sobered. “I know you have a city to protect here, but should you ever need someplace safe...Ferelden is open to you. Please, protect this city as long as possible. There is something foul here, something evil. You do us all proud - a Ferelden who rose up to aid a city that would have turned you away.”

The sudden seriousness made the words even more potent and Hawke simply nodded. Alistair looked around and sighed, “And as fun as this has been, I must return to Ferelden. Eavan, you and your Wardens are with me, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously. They are ready to go - minus the few who are working the Deep Roads,” Eavan winked at Anders. “Anders, I expect you and Fenris at Vigil’s Keep.”

“Yes Commander,” both men said while nodding.

“Hawke, thank you. It was a pleasure,” Eavan smiled.

“It was an adventure,” Hawke responded, pulling Eavan into a hug.

“Right. Wardens! We’re with His Majesty. Gather your things on the double. Move it!” Eavan called, gathering up her people with much fanfair.

“I love when she goes all commanding.” Alistair said on a grin. He glanced at Anders again and smiled. “When you have a time once you are settled in to the Vigil, talk to Eavan about the changes that have been made. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” And with that, he bowed to the group and followed Eavan - Teagan trailing behind him.

Hawke stood at the base of the stairs in the Viscount’s Keep and blinked. “What just happened?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boom...The End...for the Knight Commander at least

Time seemed to slow after the King’s visit. With the wardens gone, there was little to do - other than wait. Hawke found herself pulled into more and more tasks involving the Circle - templars going rogue, mages going rogue, templars and mages going rogue together. Orsino wanted names, Meredith wanted heads - Hawke wanted to kill both of them and be done with it.

The Chantry sat empty - a large padlock on the door and official notice proclaiming “Warden Business! Do Not Enter!” Elthina had moved services and all important relics to the Viscount Keep - which now echoed with the sounds of the chant - and guard rotations, templar rotations, and general nobility uproar.

Seneschal Bran had sent Hawke a fruit basket filled with rotten fruit as thanks for the “prudent suggestion of the usage of an empty City building.”

Winter passed slowly - grinding along in frozen misery. And it was only during the first blossom of Spring that any change happened - the first bloom on the Hightown trees followed the first true sign that this stalemate was at an end.

And it all started on the steps leading to Lowtown from the Docks.

***

  
“I’m telling you, Hawke, this is it. This is going to be it,” Anders said as he hurried next to his friend.

“Are you ready?” Hawke glanced at him, her staff in her hand as they rushed to the altercation happening - the altercation she had found out about from a panic-stricken youth.

“There can be no balking, there can be no backing down. There can be no compromise,” Anders said, tears forming in his eyes. “Maker forgive me.”

“Maker forgive us all, mage,” Fenris added. “But I am with you, no matter what.”

“Fenris…” Anders whispered, the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hawke joked. “My lover caused a Qunari invasion. It’s only fair that Fenris’ lover start a war. Balance, you know?”

“Hawke,” Fenris growled.

“Oh stop. I just hope Isabela can get Merrill and Varric before this explodes.” Hawke fretted for a moment and then shook her head. “I, ah, called for Aveline as well, Anders.”

Anders stopped, a stricken look on his face. “Mage, she will not touch you. What of Sebastian.” Fenris put a hand on Anders’ arm, squeezing gently.

“I did not call for him. Last I heard he was ensconced with Elthina, the two of them...doing something. What, I don’t know.” Hawke shrugged. “He was less friendly during my last visit. Said he fears for my soul and that I have done something terrible. I don’t know, maybe he’s mad we pulled a dark spawn out of the Chantry basement?”

Fenris and Anders shared a look. If Sebastian was up to something with the Grand Cleric, chances were it would end poorly for Hawke. Suddenly, there was new urgency to this meeting. The three of them rushed down another flight of stairs and were intercepted by Varric, Merrill, and Isabela. The clanking of armor heralded Aveline’s arrival.

“Hawke, what is this fuss?” Aveline was sweating, as if she had run from the Keep.

“Orsino and Meredith are fighting. We’re going to go stop it,” Hawke said briskly, turning and starting down the stairs.

“Oh goodie. My day didn’t have enough drama,” Aveline deadpanned, falling in step with her friend. “Are you sure we can stop it?”

“We’ll stop something,” Hawke muttered. “I’m tired of this. We all are.”

They group took the stairs at a near run, turned down another avenue and then slowed. There, in the next lower Lowtown courtyard stood Orsino surrounded by a small contingent of mages and Meredith surrounded by a small contingent of templars. The two were fairly nose-to-nose and yelling.

“You cannot do this!” Orsino bellowed.

“Contain yourself, First Enchanter. I know my duty,” Meredith snarled.

“What in the Void is going on?” Hawke asked, strolling up and leaning on her staff. “Another family fight? Really, haven’t you two learned not to do this in public?”

“Champion,” Meredith turned narrowed eyes to Hawke. “I can only imagine that Orsino dragged you here.”

“I did. To stop you. Champion, she’s going to request the Rite of Annulment.” Orsino tripped down the stairs to stand next to Hawke. “She’s gone mad. She sees blood mages everywhere.”

“This is none of your business, Champion. I am going to pull my templars from their duties and then handle this. I do not need to request anything. Elthina agreed to the Rite just this morning,” Meredith bared her teeth. “I shall solve this problem. My way.”

“You will do no such thing,” Anders stepped forward, his staff held before him. “No more will we bow to your tyranny.”

“And what will you do?” sneered Meredith? “You are one apostate...and one I look forward to taking care of. You should have been made tranquil years ago.” Fenris growled and Meredith actually growled back.

“We will put an end to you. We will put an end to all templar oversight. THE CHANTRY SHALL FALL AND WITH IT THE POWER OF THE CORRUPT. WE WILL HAVE JUSTICE. WE WILL NOT COMPROMISE,” Anders’ skin split as Justice pulled forward. Meredith took a step back.

“Abomination,” she breathed. “Abomination!”

“WE WILL NOT COWER BEFORE YOU. TODAY, YOU WILL KNOW THE TOUCH OF JUSTICE. TODAY, WE RESTORE THE BALANCE,” Justice raised Anders’ staff, the wood glowing with the amount of magic being summoned. Before Meredith could react, the staff was slammed down and the magic released.

There was a hum, a distant rumbling...the earth shaking, the city groaning,, the chantry shivered and then sank. The shockwave welled up and knocked the entire city off its feet. Stone groaned as foundations crumbled, old mining tunnels giving way beneath the strain and bulk of the Chantry.

The tower shook, glass exploding outward in a shower that covered Hightown. Crenellations crumbled and pummeled the street below. There was another loud groan followed by a SNAP and then the building fell quickly, down...down...down, tilted forward, and toppled over the stairs - blocking any entrance to the fallen building and sealing the area from the city.

Down in the Deep Roads, the fires flared, smoke filling the chambers. Dark spawn fled as the very lower levels of the Chantry crashed through the thick stone ceiling, smothering the fires and filling the Deep Roads with rock, stone, and a large statue of the Maker. His visage came to rest in front one crack...one crack that looked into a chamber filled with red lyrium.

Up in Lowtown, the entire crowd stood silent. Anders shook, Justice releasing him, wobbled, and fell to his knees. Meredith gaped, wide-eyed. Orison gibbered.

“Why? Why would you...how could you…” He gasped.

“Because there can be no compromise. There never could be. To change the world we needed a symbol...a starting point...and this was it. This is it, Orsino. No longer can we deny what is right. The mages will rise up.” Anders said wearily.

“No…” Meredith breathed. “The Grand Cleric was in there...killed...killed by a mage…”

“She was in the Keep.” Hawke said. “The Chantry’s been closed for months now - dark spawn.”

“No, we sent in a group of Templars and found nothing. She went back today. She was...she was to call for your denouncement…”Meredith swung wide eyes to Hawke. “She was in there.”

Hawke blinked in shock and glanced at Aveline, who nodded. “Sebastian went with her. He was there as well…”

“The Grand Cleric was killed by a mage!” Meredith howled. “We bring the Rite of Annulment on the Gallows now!”

“No! This was not caused by a Circle mage...Meredith...please. You are talking children, elderly…” Orsino begged.

“Be gone, mage. Hurry back to the Gallows. Hawke, redeem yourself. Kill your so-called friend and join with me,” Meredith turned, eyes wide.

Fenris didn’t even stop, didn’t slow, didn’t think. The sight of the Knight Commander pulling her sword - of Anders’ on the ground...rage filled him and his tattoos lit, propelled him the short distance to the Knight Commander.

Her sword - red and pulsating with rancid power, flared with light as Fenris’ hand met her chest. For a brief moment, the sword seemed to shine brighter and then...fell. Fell and shattered. The lyrium shivered as Fenris pulled back his hand, Meredith’s eyes wide and unseeing as she fell into the lyrium shards - shards that surged up to cover her...slipping under her skin as she settled on the stairs, mouth still open in a silent scream.

They stood there...mouths agape at the fallen visage of a red-lyrium coated Knight Commander, the only remains of her the heart held clutched in Fenris’ hand. The heart fell to the ground as Fenris moved back to guard Anders, eyes on the rest of the templars.

Cullen stepped forward, swallowed, and looked at Hawke. “I…” He hesitated. “I have no words.”

“Knight-Captain,” Hawke said, steel in her voice. “Do you intend to perform the Rite of Tranquility?”

“No...I...no. Maker, that sword. No. First Enchanter. Please, return to the Gallows. Half of you, escort him and his charges there. Make sure they arrive unmolested. The rest, to Hightown to assess damage. Join the Guard, search for survivors,” Cullen turned to look at Hawke, his face begging for help.

“I will return with you,” Hawke said with a slight smile. “Isabela, is your ship ready to leave?”

“It is,” She grinned, hand on her hip. “As is my cargo.”

“We are not cargo,” Fenris growled, though only a little.

“I am sending Anders and Fenris to the Wardens in Vigil’s Keep. The Warden Commander will oversee his punishment, as befitting a Warden. Is that acceptable?” Hawke raised an eyebrow to Cullen who swallowed again and nodded.

“Yes...I wouldn’t want Eavan to have cause to return,” Cullen, gave a half-smile. “Can Kirkwall count on you, Champion? We are in need of leadership.”

“Oh come on. This isn’t the first time we’ve picked the City back up. Blast it. I wanted to go with you all but...that went better than expected,” Hawke turned sad eyes to Fenris and Anders. “This is…”

“Good bye,” Anders was standing, gripping Fenris’ shoulder. “For now, yes. Though you are welcome at the Vigil.”

“Mm...visit Ferelden? Sounds like a great plan,” Hawke looked over at Varric and Merrill. “But we’ll see.”

Varric, who up till now had seemed frozen in place, looked at Hawke. “You’re staying?” There was a tremble in his words.

“Yeah Varric, I’m staying,” Hawke moved to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You staying, Merrill?”

“Of course. It’s time to start cleaning this city up,” She said with a nod. “The elves are ready.”

“Hawke,” Aveline looked like she wanted to ask and then shook her head. “Come on, let’s go see what’s left of Hightown.”

Fenris and Anders stood there and watched as Hawke martialed their friends and the rest of the templars. She turned and gave them both a wicked smile, winked, and then tapped the ground with her staff. ‘Well then, I think this sounds like a grand idea. And you know what happens when I have a grand idea, right?”

The entire courtyard groaned.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thank you to every single reader, ever kudos, every comment, every note on Tumblr...everything. 
> 
> This is the end of Fenris & Anders story - sort of - but there is still Inquisition...so still more to tell...

_**Epilogue** _

“Did you tell Hawke?” Eavan asked with a smile as she helped tie Anders’ corset.

“I did. She was off with Isabela, though. Avoiding Kirkwall, she said in her letter. Something about Seekers. I hope Varric’s alright,” Anders grunted. “Maker, that’s tight enough.”

“Sorry there,” Eavan chuckled. “Don’t wear them myself,”

She was referring to the corset in warden blue. The silk was stitched with tiny black griffons, the ebony thread matching the laces and edging. The robe, Tevinter in cut, was in silver raw silk. One shoulder was left bare, a silver armband around one well-muscled bicep. Hair left loose, torque gleaming, he was nearly beautiful. Eavan took him in and grinned.

“Fenris is going to shit a nug,” She proclaimed.

“Andraste’s eye-teeth, I hope not,” Anders muttered. “I also hope he doesn’t shred the outfit.”

“We were lucky your Fran wanted to relocate. She’s been ever so helpful with my own clothing. Funny that she wanted to visit the Kocari Wilds. Said something about Avaar ruins...didn’t realize she traveled,” Eavan mused. “Reminds me of somebody...though I can’t put my finger on it.”

Anders hadn’t been listening, instead rubbing at the torque, eyes wide. “Is this really happening?”

Eavan just smiled, took his hand, and led him from his room.

***

The Vigils’ main hall was decorated in streamers and flowers, candles and bunting. Near the Arlessa’s chair stood a dwarf dressed in Chantry garb. Brother Burkel, saved years ago from Orzammar by Eavan and settled into Vigil as their chaplain, rocked on his heels. Next to him stood Fenris garbed in silvery white and warden blue. His silk shirt shimmered when he moved and was tucked into skin tight pants.

Fran had made sure they didn’t ride up.

The doors to the Hall opened and he turned to see Anders stride in, Eavan in her warden commander dress blues at his side. Behind them were the Senior Wardens kitted out in their parade uniforms. The rest of the Wardens and Vigil staff sat and stood in a semi-circle, one that split to allow the group to move to the front of the Hall.

Fenris shuffled on his feet at the sight of Anders. One hand flexed and a wide smiled blossomed on Anders’ face. Fenris’ ears pinked and he huffed softly, relaxing.

Anders finally stopped next to him and beamed. “Love,” he whispered.

“You look stunning,” Fenris growled softly.

Brother Burkel let out a chuckle and raised his hands. “Friends, Wardens, we are here today to witness a promise. A promise between these two. A promise before you and before the Maker…”

Anders gave a laugh when he spied Bun and Pounce on the Arlessa’s chair. Fenris shook his head, rolled his eyes, and took his lovers’ other hand. Brother Burkel kept talking but for those two, there was nothing but the moment, their touch, and the future stretching out before them.

Freedom...a dream both had had for so long. One finally realized together.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as Warriormaggie!


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